


Halo-Heavy

by onthewingsoficarus



Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Angst, Blood and Gore, Don't worry, Eventual Smut, Experimentation, F/F, F/M, Flowerpot!Flowey, Fluff, Gender-Neutral Frisk, Horror, Human Experimentation, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Mute Frisk, Mystery, Occult?, PTSD Sans, Panic Attacks, Past Abuse, Past Child Abuse, Possession, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Racism, Rape, Reader Is Not Frisk, Resets, Science definitely goes too far, Slow Build, Slow Burn, Smut, Soul Bond, Tags will update with the story, Texting, Torture, We've finally gotten to the spoopening, bad times incoming, but suffering is on it's way, choo choo the suffering train is here, i promise :), it is a mystery, lord knows if that'll work, narrator likes to curse, no one is safe, or I'll try to make it a slow burn, really it's been a lot of fluff so far, science possibly goes too far, we're gonna have fun guys
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-03-25
Updated: 2018-04-12
Packaged: 2018-05-28 23:38:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 48
Words: 102,248
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6350239
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/onthewingsoficarus/pseuds/onthewingsoficarus
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>As a budding researcher with an inclination toward matters of the SOUL, it's only natural I'm drawn to him.<br/>Too bad the past just won't stay dead. For either of us.</p><p>Chapters with explicit content have warnings in notes. </p><p>1: (45/45)<br/>2: (3/?)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Fin

**Author's Note:**

> It's been so long since I've written any kind of fanfiction, but Undertale has brought it back out of me! I'm so excited to write this story, and I have SO MANY ideas right now. It's just a matter of putting them all on paper. I'll do my best to update as often as possible (I know the awful torment of waiting on a sign of life from a writer). All that said, let's get right to it. Enjoy!

Breathe out. A chill in the air, and yet a fleeting, fragile warmth on the skin, soft but slightly, steadily growing with each passing moment. Red, bright against my eyelids, all I can see.

 

Breathe in. Satisfaction is easily found in the honey-suckle-sweet air, gentle blades beneath. And then, a tender caress in spite of rough hands, tracing black shadows amidst the red in my eyes.

 

“you are my sunshine, my only sunshine…” He begins, a silly grumble in his throat as I can’t help but smile, whispering the words back.

 

“You make me happy when skies are grey…” His fingers lace in mine and he shifts his weight toward me, planting his version of a sloppy kiss on my cheek. Laughing quietly, I struggle not to give him the pleasure of seeing my eyes. Not just yet.

 

“you’ll never know, dear, how much I love you…” Seeing my stubbornness, he tries two more pecks, one over each eye with the utmost care in hopes they may flutter open for him.

 

This is **_wrong_**.

 

“Please don’t take my sunshine away--.” Agony explodes from my chest and horror-bound, I can’t help but look.

 

**_You_** did this.

 

A handle sprouts from between my ribs, the blade burning deep as blood runs like little red root tendrils across my shirt.

 

**_Your fault._ **

 

I blink in an effort to escape whatever hell I slipped into, the pain remaining though the knife instead gleams at me from his chest.

Choke.

 

This is worse. He seems surprised.

 

I wish I could be, too.

 

Squeeze my eyes shut to take it back, please, please, please. Reopen. Red, dark against my eyes, all I can see, taste, smell.

 

This will never **end**.

 

Warmth.

 

“No…” I murmur, quiet, desperate.

 

Breathe out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I gotta getcha hooked somehow! :P The next chapter will be more traditional and significantly longer. Until next time!


	2. Simplicity

I slump against the handlebar of my shopping cart, groaning under my breath at the sheer amount of people in one area. It appears everyone and their mother had decided the grocery store was the place to be this very muggy Sunday afternoon. Navigating the all-too-narrow aisles is even more difficult than usual, as both human and monster-kind alike struggle to complete their shopping without stepping on any toes.

 

It’s been five years since the human ambassador, Frisk Dreemurr, led the monsters out of the shattered barrier that had contained the Underground. Initially, tensions were extremely high; talks of everything from extermination to internment camps were rampant amongst those who felt their home country had been “invaded” by the creatures from below. Though the disgusting prejudiced habits of humans remained, the ambassador was determined to find their friends a place in the world aboveground. And Frisk did just that. Almost a year after their arrival, the government decided to expand the definition of a “person” to include monsters, allowing them to acquire citizenship. It’s remarkable that a child of just ten years understood kindness and empathy more than the vast majority of humankind.

 

Years later, some of these sentiments are still apparent in a vocal, but relatively small group. Women with “get-me-your-manager” haircuts, parents who “won’t have _their_ children mingling with the other half”, people too uncomfortable in their own skin to cope with anything different. Assholes, basically. Luckily, most humans now appear to view monsters favorably; the majority outweighs the idiotic few.

 

I scoot my cart between two dinosaur-monster families in the frozen food aisle, apologizing on both sides and receiving the same in return. Arriving in front of the TV dinners, I pull to a stop, yanking open the glass door and sticking my face inside the shelves, sighing at the sweet relief from the heat. I remind myself I’m supposed to be looking for food, breathing in the frosty air for just a moment before grabbing an armful of various dinners. I regretfully abandon the cool shelter of the freezer unit, dumping my selection into the cart and pushing off towards the check-out lanes. A water-elemental directs me to his lane, and I quickly oblige, pulling the cart close and beginning to place my groceries on the conveyor belt.

 

“Hey, how’re you today?” Smiling sweetly, I strike up a conversation with the monster, feeling somewhat jealous as he’s probably significantly cooler than I am at this point.

 

“I’m well, yourself?” The elemental nods to me, voice bubbling forth.

 

“ _Hot._ ” I give a little groan, though I retain my smile. His form seems to shrink slightly in sympathy, chuckling wryly.

 

“I’m sorry. I can’t imagine. Your total is $28.91.”

 

“No need!” I chirp, pulling my card from my wallet and swiping to pay. The watery creature takes the receipt when it prints and hands it over, amazingly leaving it dry.

 

“Have a good day.” He passes over my three bags after giving me a moment to replace my wallet in my backpack.

 

“You as well.” I leave the store with a smile and take my bags out to my bike, placing them in the basket on the front and tying their tops to prevent any possible spills. Without the stuttering presence of the poorly-circulating air-conditioning, the heat of the sun oppressively beats down upon me, radiating off the blacktop as well. I straddle my bike, huffing at the sheen of sweat already forming on my skin. Flicking my aviator sunglasses over my eyes, I pull my phone from my pocket to check it before getting on the road, four text message notifications appearing on the screen. I swipe right, shielding the screen from the sun with my hand and reading.

 

 

_Dr. Abernathy (1:39PM)_

_Good afternoon, ____. Could you come in an hour early tomorrow? We’ve decided to move forward with your proposal and require your presence to discuss terms and introduce you to new staff additions. They will be working on your project with you._

My jaw’s hanging open by the time I finish reading the first text, and I give a short, happy cheer to the sky above. Laughing with pure joy, I type up my response message, wishing I had checked my phone in the store so I could have purchased some celebratory wine. But it’s too late now, and I have to get the frozen food home before it starts cooking in my basket.

 

 

_xxx-xxx-xxxx (2:04PM)_

_Thank you, Dr. Abernathy! I will be there by 7:00AM tomorrow morning. I look forward to speaking with you soon!_

 

 

Probably a little too excited for a “professional”, but I’m still essentially just a student.  Certainly Dr. Abernathy could be a little understanding of my exclamation points. I pull up the next set of messages, from an unknown number.

 

_???-???-???? (1:45PM)_

_Hi! I hope I have the right number..._

_-This is Dr. Alphys. I’ll be working with you on your project. Excited to meet you tomorrow!_

_\--omg, what if I do have the wrong number? If you aren’t ____, please disregard this message. ><;_

_The_ Dr. Alphys, I wonder. Once the Royal Scientist in the Underground, I had heard she was working on our staff at the university lab (the university president made a huge deal about it), but I didn’t realize she would ever work with anyone but other professors. An anxious pit of pride and nerves wells in my stomach at the thought of the caliber of professional I could be working with as soon as tomorrow, and I can’t help but squeak just a little at it. I quickly add her number into my contacts before replying, deciding I can definitely afford to be slightly more casual since she’d used emojis.

 

 

_xxx-xxx-xxxx (2:05PM)_

_Hi, Dr. Alphys, this is the right number! Thank you for contacting me! I’ve saved your number. I’m so excited to start working with you tomorrow! :) Have a great one!_

Pocketing my phone, I back my bike out of the rack before pushing into a smooth, steady pace back towards my apartment. As I pedal onward, I reflect on all the changes in my life that have occurred over the past few months. I graduated from college at the end of the spring semester, but was selected by my professors to remain on-board with the lab as a paid intern, which has greatly improved my chances of coming back as a doctoral student and has also boosted my income just enough so I’m not perpetually struggling to come up with rent on a monthly basis. Fresh off the high of that news, my then-boyfriend decided it was a great time to drop me on my face by revealing to me in that moment that his mother didn’t like me. What even? Thankfully, he left campus with most of the other students when the summer rolled around, so I don’t have to constantly worry about if I’m going to run into him somewhere. I’m grateful for that much. He acquired a new girlfriend about a month after the breakup, which sort of stung and led me to believe he probably lied to me about his mom… I guess I’m too intimidating to face down. That, or he didn’t want me crying on him. Whatever.

 

I subconsciously pedal along a little faster than I initially intend to, ending up back at my apartment quite quickly, but also soaked in sweat. Prying my thighs off the leather seat with a little wince, I grab my bags and huff it up the stairs to the third floor, where I fight for a moment to free my keychain from my backpack without having to set anything down. I’m unable to do so, relenting and putting the milk down so that I can fish the keys out. As always, the door refuses to open for me with the key alone, so I throw my shoulder against it and stumble inside, settling the bags on the counter before returning to the door to retrieve the milk.

 

After spending some time with the temperature-sensitive groceries, I head back outside to lock up my bike for the evening. The chime of a little bell rouses me from the heat-haze smothering most of my mental faculties, just in time to take in the sweet sight of the Nice Cream Guy pushing his cart along toward the park.

 

“Hey!” I call out, waving to catch his attention and running over as fast as my inner child insisted.

 

“Hi there! I’m guessing you’re pretty parched, huh?” The light blue rabbit-monster smiles kindly, stopping his cart. “Would you like anything?”

 

“Oh, God, yes. One raspberry Nice Cream, please.” I have to stop myself from drooling as I pull out the appropriate amount of cash, an exact amount I know all too well, and hand it over to him. After counting the bills, he places them in his pocket and passes me my sugary reward, infinitely better than the wine I’d thought of earlier.

 

“Thank you for your business, as always.” God, I _have_ bought way too many Nice Creams lately. I return his kind smile and take the dessert back to my apartment, where I elect to lay on the floor as opposed to suffering any form of collected heat from sitting on my cloth-covered couch.

 

 _You’re going to have a great day!_ The wrapper emits just the slightest amount of magic to chirrup at me as I open it, tingling at my fingertips and tugging up a little warm feeling in my chest in spite of the chilly consistency of the treat. I muse about the meaning, whether the Nice Cream believes I will have a good day today or tomorrow. I shut my eyes and take another bite, electing to pass those good vibes onto tomorrow. I’ve already had a pretty good day today.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There may be a few errors here, but I wanted to get another chapter out to go with the first to prevent an awful amount of vagueness (in spite of it being 4AM...). I'll certainly be going back to remedy any mistakes. 
> 
> Let me know what you think! I'm always happy to receive constructive criticism.


	3. Early Start

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A little more about The Reader and what she hopes to accomplish before we get into the real meat of the story. I'm genuinely trying to make this a slow burn, which I haven't been very good at in the past. But we'll see what happens. Enjoy and please let me know if I've made any horrific errors that burn your eyes. Thank you for reading! :)

At exactly 5:45AM, my alarm clock launches into its obnoxious squawking to rouse me from the dark reaches of sleep. Thoroughly irritated, I slap all the buttons on top of the clock repeatedly until the thing decides to shut up. As excited as I should be, the fact that I have to rise before the sun somewhat throws my enthusiasm. I stay in place for a few precious minutes, glaring halfheartedly at the bright orange numbers gleaming back at me, before dragging myself out of the tangle of covers. I trudge into the bathroom and give myself a good long stare-down in the mirror before moving to turn on some music, anything to get me going. It works after a song or two, and I begin my morning routine slightly less begrudgingly.

 

I yank my retainer out, spitting leftover slobber into the sink and washing the stupid thing out before brushing my teeth, examining my face as I do so. I’m generally too lazy for any application of makeup, and I certainly won’t be changing that trend today. I move on to brushing the knots out of my hair afterwards, taming it into a ponytail with a little coaxing. Dull and ruddy, I am painfully conventional and baby-faced, brown hair perpetually brushed away from still-browner eyes. Short, skinny-ish, nothing special. A sawed-off little half-shit. I give myself a wry little grin in the mirror, snapping my fingers and pointing at my reflection.

 

“You’re gonna kill it.”

 

I cross the hall to pick out my scrub set of the day, opting for a professional-looking cobalt as opposed to some of the more amusing prints in my collection. While something tells me Dr. Alphys would probably appreciate a few of them, Dr. Abernathy would likely combust if I met new colleagues in Disney-themed scrubs. Hopping into the pants, I fold the top up and settle it in my backpack, pulling on a black sports bra and tank-top for the ride over to campus.

 

I return to the bathroom to give myself a quick once-over before dialing down the music and heading to the kitchen for a quick breakfast. As I dump Frosted Flakes in a bowl followed by a small amount of milk, I power on the TV and move to the table to watch for a moment while I eat. The little display flickers to life, showing a beleaguered weatherman indicating that the warmth is, indeed, here to stay. _Better than the cold_ , I muse, continuing to shovel cereal in to avoid running late. The meteorologist points out that the amount of moisture in the atmosphere could cause some instability later on, bringing on an afternoon shower or two. I huff at that, standing and returning to my room to stuff my rainjacket inside my backpack, just in case. I drag my bag out to the table with me, settling back down to finish my cereal before it gets too soggy. The news drones on in the background, a geometric monster reporting on a water main break somewhere in the city, the safe return of a child to its mother after a suspected kidnapping, the arrest of a known felon…

 

Right on time, I take my bowl over to the sink and quickly wash it out, settling it in the dishwasher and walking by the TV to turn it back off. Shouldering my pack, I snag my phone off its charger and pocket it, looking over my apartment briefly before backing out with keys in hand. I lock the door behind me, checking twice out of habit, knowing I’ll think about it all day if I don’t. Satisfied, I descend the stairs with a small pep in my step, gathering up my bike and setting off on my short journey.

 

The ride is relatively uneventful, hardly a soul on the street this early aside from myself, and I pull my bike into my usual “parking spot” in the garage behind the university laboratory about fifteen minutes early. I remove my shirt from its place in my backpack, slipping it over my tanktop, smoothing out any wrinkles, and pulling my ID lanyard over my head before heading inside.

 

A concrete-covered loading bay greets me initially, and I move past the massive yellow and red metal shelving at either side of me toward the security checkpoint, where I am moderately perturbed to find no guard present and have to go through the trouble of fishing out my keycard. A quick swipe, and the large steel security door clicks to signal it’s been unlocked. I shove hurriedly inside before the lock resets and pull out my phone to shoot Dr. Abernathy a brief text.

 

 

_xxx-xxx-xxxx (6:48AM)_

_Good morning, Dr. Abernathy. I just wanted to let you know I’m here. Where would you like me to meet you?_

 

 

I take the opportunity to silence the device, pocketing it and walking down the long white hallway before me. The university lab is a state-of-the-art facility, comprised of four floors filled to the brim with a wide variety of technical equipment, all funded by federal grants and private donors. The first floor is primarily meant for meeting space, with two theater-style lecture halls each named for one of the most generous donors and several multipurpose rooms peppered throughout the halls. The second floor is designated for the kinesiology department; their students often venture up looking for willing volunteers for some of their studies in return for use of their equipment. Psychology occupies the third floor, which also houses the university’s counseling and psychiatric services department. Finally, the fourth floor is home to interspecies studies, a brand-new major branch of study that came out of necessity after the ascension of monsters. Both monster and human students follow this course of study, a collective effort to help both species understand the other. Since students often are interested in the mental or physical capacities of either species along with the cultural differences, the university deemed it necessary to place all three departments in a location where their students could easily access all three.

 

As an undergraduate, I double-majored in interspecies studies and psychology, drawn to the idea of the SOUL and the bearing one’s SOUL had on their outward behavior. Of course before monsters had retaken their place on the Surface, humans had some awareness of the concept of a soul, and mostly embodied this knowledge in religion and other subjects. Typically, it was mentioned as the immortal representation of who one is as a person. For example, some believe a person is reincarnated into a different form based on how their soul appears to a judge after death. Others believe the soul is transported to one place or another based on their behavior in life. Still others consider many diverse applications of the soul. Even those who don’t necessarily believe in a “soul” still think of an inner entity, a conscience. However, the wide majority of all humans, no matter their culture, believed in the presence of the soul long before monsters reappeared. When they rose, this theory became fact. All entities, monster or human, have a SOUL.

 

My proposal offers the idea of documenting SOULs from a hopefully-large sample group to determine how traits manifest themselves within one’s SOUL. If my project is successful, I’d like to expand to examining the development of the SOUL in children, how their expanding minds and changing personalities affect their SOUL and if any traits are inborn on the SOUL from their parents. I’m probably in way over my head, but I suppose that’s what the professionals are for.

 

My phone buzzes briefly and I don’t have to unlock the screen to read Dr. Abernathy’s short message.

 

 

_Dr. Abernathy (6:50AM)_

_Room 143._

Never early enough for Dr. Abernathy, I suppose. I wind through the familiar maze of hallways, coming to a stop in front of the door numbered “143” after a few moments. Taking a deep breath, I grip the doorknob and brace myself for what I hope will be a life-changing meeting.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ohoho, dear Reader, it will be life-changing. ;) 
> 
> The song I envision The Reader jamming to while she gets ready is "Nightswimming" by Turkuaz, just if anybody wants a little pep-up themselves. Next up, meeting the boy-blue-wonder! :D


	4. Blueprint

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Easter, if you celebrate it (if not, Happy Sunday)! I couldn't wait to work on this chapter until after work, so I wound up typing a lot of the beginning up on my phone and finishing at home. Please let me know if anything hurts to read, I'll do my best to fix it. Sans makes his appearance and the world is right again. But he's not.  
> Thank you for stopping by and I hope you enjoy!

"Good morning, ____. Have a seat.” Dr. Abernathy’s bitter voice washes over me like a mug of black coffee, any last remnants of sleepiness instantly scorched from my brain. I hurriedly step into the conference room and do as he says, sitting down in one of the chairs at a long side of the rectangular table in the middle of the room. Dr. Abernathy shuts the door behind me before moving to take his place at the head of the table, settling down. “Well, I suppose congratulations are in order, ____.” His smile looks forced, as it almost always does.

 

“Thank you, sir. I’m very excited to get to work, and I hope our research will prove beneficial.” I return the smile genuinely, though I do my best to rein in my nerves under his sharp gaze. Dr. Abernathy is a hawkish man in his early 50s, standing well above 6 feet in height, lean and hardened by many years of military service. I’ve never asked what branch he served in, and if I did, it’s likely he wouldn’t tell me. His greying hair clipped close and icy blue eyes complete the intimidating image; this is a man one doesn’t want to disappoint. It seems I haven’t done so just yet.

 

“I certainly hope the same.” He grumbles lowly, glancing at his phone. “We’ll be joined momentarily by your new colleagues. You’ll be working closely with them; I will simply be overseeing your efforts.”

 

“Will I be able to use the research for my dissertation?” I fidget slightly with my hands beneath the table. Even after four years in this department, asking Dr. Abernathy any kind of question is slightly unnerving.

 

“Of course.” I instantly feel like an idiot. “The majority of your time will be required here. Can you commit to five days a week?” It’s more a matter of what I clearly have to do.

 

“Is there any way I can have a slight increase in my stipend? I’m currently holding another job to stay afloat…” I respond meekly, knowing he won’t like my attempt at negotiation very much. But this is reality.

 

“We can discuss other opportunities for compensation, yes.” He pauses briefly before answering, as if he hadn’t expected me to answer with anything other than an affirmative. I nod, clenching my hands firmly to still them in my lap.

 

Before we can exchange any further conversation, at 7:00AM on the dot, the door swings open. A very frazzled little yellow dinosaur-monster waddles inside, grinning sheepishly and pushing her glasses up the bridge of her snout before turning to shut the door once more. I rocket to my feet, extending my hand.

 

“Good morning, Dr. Alphys! It’s a pleasure to finally meet you!” I wince internally at my excitement, but Dr. Alphys’s facial expression eases just slightly, as if reassured she’s wanted here.

 

“I-it’s nice to meet you a-as well, ____. A-and please, just Alphys is fine.” With a small smile, Alphys quickly takes and shakes my hand. “G-good morning, Dr. Abernathy.” Nodding Dr. Abernathy’s way, she hops into the seat between the two of us, adjusting her lab coat around her.

 

“And the person you recommended for this job…?” I can see Dr. Abernathy’s jaw tense after asking the question, abruptly grateful I’d arrived much earlier than I typically would.

 

“H-he’s on his way… I t-told him not to be late, b-but this is v-very early for him.”

 

“You can tell him if he doesn’t start arriving _on time_ , he can forget the arrangements.” Alphys is silent temporarily as she takes in whatever Dr. Abernathy happens to mean before taking out her phone.

 

“I’ll try to g-give him a call…” She murmurs lowly, pressing the phone to her cheek, near where I assume her ear is. I glance at Dr. Abernathy in a bit of disbelief, confused as to why he would pester her about someone she cannot necessarily control. No sooner than she reaches the end of a string of dial tones does the door open one last time, and she heaves a sigh of relief.

 

“sorry about that, doc. i’ve never been good with time.”

 

My breath hitches very slightly in my throat at the sight of my final colleague. A walking, talking skeleton is the last thing I’m expecting, and even though I’ve seen a wide variety of all different kinds of monsters, I’m still just a little surprised. Like seeing a bone jutting through the skin, where it doesn’t belong; the thought of an entire disembodied skeleton is slightly unnerving, at least initially.

 

A bead of sweat somehow appears on the side of his skull as he chuckles at a joke only he seems to understand, and he walks behind Dr. Abernathy’s chair to the other side of the table where he slides into the seat opposite me. I take the brief moment to establish his differences from my own frame in my mind: he’s stocky and short, though by no means small, and not too close to anatomically correct from what I can see. Not quite dressed for the weather though he doesn’t seem too bothered, he shrugs his hands into the pockets of his blue hoodie, resting the small pinpricks of light in his eye sockets that must represent his pupils on Dr. Abernathy.

 

“And you are?” Dr. Abernathy’s hand gives a brief twitch as he grits his teeth, almost hissing through them. The skeleton opens his mouth to answer, though Alphys cuts in as if anticipating a confrontation.

 

“Th-this is my friend and c-colleague, Sans. H-he’s a specialist when it c-comes to matters of the SOUL, p-probably the best th-there is.”

 

“The best or not, I would prefer he be on time from now on. Is that understood?” Dr. Abernathy’s glare could have ignited most substances, but Sans seems untroubled, resting his chair on its back two legs as he stretches.

 

“well, doc, i’m inclined to be laidback, but i think i can make an exception for this.” As Sans’s baritone voice adds in a little snark to emphasize his pun, I attempt not to choke on a laugh, drawing both his and Dr. Abernathy’s attention. I clamp my mouth shut, staring wide-eyed across the table at Sans, who simply winks my way as I can feel Dr. Abernathy attempting to carve a hole in me with his eyes.

 

“If that will be all, I assume ____ is more than capable of detailing what she requires of you. I have other more important matters to attend to, so if you’ll excuse me.” The tenured professor clearly can’t stand to be around Sans for more than a moment or so at a time, and the fact that he can get such a formidable person so riled up is slightly impressive. Before leaving the room, Dr. Abernathy stops at the door, turning to me. “I require your new proposed terms by the end of the evening so I can make the request with employee resources.”

 

“Y-yes, sir.” I’m hardly able to look him in the eyes, still fairly embarrassed at my lapse in professionalism. “I’ll email you when I get home.”

 

With a jerk of his head in acknowledgement, Dr. Abernathy exits the room, leaving me in the company of my new coworkers. After several seconds of silence, as if waiting to ensure he’s completely gone, Alphys speaks up.

 

“Sans, you really should try to be on time, especially with what they’re offering you--.”

 

“i know, alph, i’m sorry.” Sans interrupts her quickly, apologizing to appease her, then looking my way. “so, kiddo. tell us what your, uh… little project is about.”

 

“Well… it’s certainly not little.” I can feel my brow furrow at his words, forcing myself to look him right in the eyes as I speak. “I want to take a sample… of both humans and monsters, as many as I can, examine their SOULs and compare them to their personalities.” His gaze doesn’t waiver, the pinpricks of light remaining solidly locked on my eyes, expression shifting minuscule amounts as if he’s analyzing what I’m saying for the truth. “It would be helpful to identify traits that are associated with inclinations, like towards violence, for example.”

 

As the word "violence" rolls thickly off my tongue, just like that, all the light leaves his sockets, and I’m staring into the blackest abyss I can imagine… for a split second. I blink as a little chill rakes up my spine, sure I’ve just imagined it, as the white is back when I look again.

 

“I-It sounds like s-something we attempted in the Underground… W-we are aware of some b-basic knowledge we can certainly share before moving ahead w-with your thought. I-I suppose we just need t-to determine wh-what exactly we’re looking for. B-but I’d be happy to discuss s-some of my prior research with you.” Alphys speaks up, and I look to her apologetically, for not glancing between the two of them as I talked.

 

“That would be great, Alphys, thank you.” I smile kindly to her, getting a little nod back.

 

“P-Personally, I’d also be i-interested in seeing how normal h-human and monster souls interact… Frisk w-wasn’t e-exactly a-average by any m-means.”

 

“So, you studied the ambassador?” I lean in a little at picking up that tidbit of information, intrigued.

 

“B-briefly, and I mostly j-just observed them! B-but I’ve dealt with s-so much d-determination, it’ll b-be nice to experience s-something else.” Waving her hands in front of her quickly to dismiss the topic of Frisk, she carries on afterwards with a fairly calm smile.

 

“That’s the red SOULs, right…?”

 

“S-so you _have_ read s-some of my studies.” Her cheeks flush a vivid pink as she hides her face.

“Definitely! Since I could get ahold of them in the library…” I admit self-consciously, smiling a little wryly before looking back across the table at Sans. He still appears to be studying me, though slightly less seriously at the moment.

 

“Take a picture, it’ll last longer.” Feeling a little snarky, I decide to see if I can get under his proverbial skin as he did with Dr. Abernathy.

 

“i’ve been exposed.” His almost perpetual grin stretches immediately. “but i shutter to think how poorly we’d click, kiddo.” I snort a small laugh but repress it for the most part, a tendril of uncertainty coiling in the back of my mind about this skeleton named Sans.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What's been promised to Sans?! gasp!  
> Puns are hard, I've found. Gah. I'll do my best to include them at key points; I know it's a large part of Sans' personality.  
> Thank you again for reading! Stay tuned for slow burning and the gentle growth of a gigantic shitstorm.


	5. Halcyon

Sans takes off after a little more discussion, claiming he needs to head to his other job, “to be frank.” Before either Alphys or I can protest, he’s gone, his chair back on all four legs.

 

“Y-you’ll get used to that.” Alphys giggles a little at my startled expression as I search the room for him.

 

“Did he really leave, or is this just another joke?” I look back to her, thoroughly confused.

 

“Oh n-no, I’m sure h-he’s really gone. If we g-give him a little while though, he may c-come back. The hotdog stand b-bores him quite easily.” In realization of the pun he’d dropped before leaving, I slap my forehead with a little groan. “I-I don’t know if anybody ever gets used to h-his puns though.” She winces slightly, shrugging.

 

“Maybe we should go up to the lab… What does Sans do that makes him such a SOUL specialist?” I stand up, stretching briefly while waiting for Alphys to do the same. The skeleton, either by nature or purposely, hadn’t revealed any personal details about himself, aside from a very apparent love of puns and a somewhat aloof attitude. My inborn curiosity inclines me to attempt to understand what I do not. Sans is clearly something currently beyond my comprehension.

  
“S-sans, in a way… s-served as a kind of judge a-at one point. I-informally of course. H-his natural abilities a-allow him to look on a-a SOUL w-without engaging in a confrontation a-and see who th-they are as a person…” Alphys leads the way out of the conference room, stepping into the nearby elevator. I follow her, pressing the button for the fourth floor. The doors close behind us. “H-he can s-see their true intentions.” She adds on as a sort of afterthought as the doors slide open once more when we reach our destination. I freeze briefly in the elevator, only moving when I realize it’s going to close once more and Alphys has already stepped out.

 

“Is… is that what he was doing when he was talking to me?” I suddenly feel as if I’d been exposed, like he took something he shouldn’t have without asking.

 

“Probably.” Alphys hedges a little sheepishly at seeing my reaction. “B-but if he’d seen something w-wrong, he would have s-said so! H-he also did it f-for me too… S-sans is just p-protective. H-he’s been th-through a lot…”

 

“Well, I have too, but I don’t go looking at other people’s SOULs without asking…” I realize I’m holding a hand defensively over my chest, steadying myself with a deep breath and allowing my hand to drop.

 

“W-we’ve dealt with a lot of h-humans who don’t have the best i-intentions. I-I’m sorry if it made you u-uncomfortable, b-but I feel m-much better about working with you n-now. I hope y-you’ll understand…” She stops in front of her office door, which is decorated with an anime character calendar that lists her availability, looking up at me with a slightly ashamed expression. I sigh softly, nodding. Of course they wouldn’t be able to trust me right off the bat, after all the shit the other humans put them through. They both obviously lived through the initial period of turmoil, where after drawing their first breath on the Surface, they were immediately threatened with their lives. “SOULs a-aren’t exactly p-private in the U-Underground. F-fighting happened so o-often; w-we’ve all had to utilize o-our SOULs a-at one p-point or another.”

 

“Oh.” I flush a little with embarrassment, realizing I’ve assumed too much about monster culture.

 

“N-now don’t g-get me wrong…” Alphys smiles kindly, opening her office and stepping inside, motioning for me to follow. “Th-there are ways o-one c-can u-use a SOUL u-u-um… i-intimately.” Her yellow face abruptly turns red as a tomato as she shuffles behind her desk, taking her seat. I end up blushing right along with her, laughing a little wryly. “B-but that’s not a-at all what Sans was doing. Trust me. I-I’d know.” In spite of her awkwardness, she winks all shrewdly.

 

“Alphys!” I can’t help but giggle at that, shaking my head.

 

“I-I know, I know.” She motions for me to sit down across from her, and I do so. “But I-I have the best girlfriend. I h-have to brag just a l-little.” Alphys takes a framed photo on her desk, turning it around so I can see the contents. Alphys and her girlfriend, a very tall, blue fish-monster with fiery red hair, are pictured at Dragon-Con, cosplaying as Sailor Uranus and Sailor Neptune.

 

“Aww, you guys are so cute! I’m actually kind of jealous.” It’s true. I feel a tug at my heartstrings, an ache for something I know I haven’t really had. As much as I’d enjoyed being with my ex when we were together, he was infantile in many ways. He’d never had to work for anything in his life: his grades were buffered by his mother perpetually helping him, his money all came from his parents, and his temper flared dangerously whenever he didn’t get his way. I juxtaposed him: cool and calm unless pushed beyond my breaking point, constantly working but just barely scraping by, and alone.

 

“Undyne’s the best…” The smile hasn’t left Alphys’s face since we got on the subject of her girlfriend.

 

“How long have you been together?” I hand the photo back over to her, letting her turn it back towards her on the desk.

 

“About f-five years now… S-since just before th-the barrier was b-broken.” She sighs dreamily, then flushes red again. “O-oh, I’m so sorry! I-I start thinking about h-her and just g-get a little lost…” Laughing nervously, she opens her desk drawers, flipping through her folders.

 

“Oh no, that’s okay! I like hearing about happy relationships. Gives me a little hope for myself.” I concede a little shyly.

 

“Please, if _I_ c-can find someone l-like Undyne, there has to be someone o-out there for you, too.” Alphys smiles reassuringly.

 

“Thanks, Alphys…” I return the grin a little awkwardly, leaning forward as she pulls several files from the bottom drawer of her desk. “What are those?”

 

“My p-pride a-and joy.” She answers, opening the first on the stack. “Th-these are files on the SOULs of six of the s-seven h-human children who fell. Frisk, th-the eighth, I have a s-small folder on.”

 

“What about the missing child?” I ask, looking over the first piece of paper she hands me. An analysis on “Determination” or “DT”, one I’d read previously.

 

“That was th-the first… Chara. I-I’m sure you’ve heard th-the story before…” Her voice grows somewhat mournful, and I nod in response.

 

“Yes…” They had been the first human to fall, and befriended the royal family’s son. However, they were accidentally poisoned after ingesting buttercups, and had perished. The royals’ son, Asriel, took Chara’s body to the Surface after combining his SOUL with Chara’s, in an attempt to fulfill the child’s wish to see the golden flowers from their village. The villagers attacked Asriel, and he returned to the Underground, where he succumbed to his wounds over a bed of golden flowers… It was a terrible story, and the reason the king took to capturing every human who fell, and relieving them of their SOULs. All up until Frisk. In the year after the barrier was broken, several trials were held, especially on the subject of those children. To end the violence and welling hatred between our two species, King Asgore was sentenced to life in the Underground, as opposed to death. I remember watching the verdict being given on live TV. He’d solemnly accepted responsibility and admitted he should have lost his life for the crimes he’d committed.

 

“I-I know wh-what was done was t-terrible… o-other options s-should have been considered…” Alphys admits after a short pause, searching my face for a reaction to the children.

 

“That was your project though… With the DT. You did try.” I give her a small reassuring smile.

 

“Y-you’re right. But I s-still ended up going through a-all s-six… and s-still failed…” She draws in a sharp breath, looking at me as if I might leave.

 

“You were just doing what you were supposed to. You were Royal Scientist… You didn’t hurt them.”

 

“she’s right, alph. no need to beat yourself up.” Sans’s voice emanates from the corner of the office, right behind me. I can’t help but jump a little, whirling around in my chair to look at him.

 

“Y-y-yeah.” Alphys appears to steel herself, taking the first paper back from me before handing me a chart. “Th-this is the a-analysis of the second s-soul. As you can s-see, their predominant color is light blue. I-in fact, o-outwardly, all y-you could see was a-aqua. However, a-after applying a spectral analysis, it revealed levels of other colors as w-well.” Sans settles himself into the chair next to mine, smirking at my reaction to his sudden appearance. I shoot him a glare in response before turning back to Alphys.

 

“Did you identify traits for the colors of the SOULs you were given?”

 

“I d-didn’t. Sans a-actually did that.” I snap my head back in his direction, absorbing his shit-eating grin, then looking back down at the chart before me.

 

“So… what does aqua stand for?” I finally ask after giving myself a moment.

 

“patience.” He states, voice surprisingly bitter in that instance, and I’m taken slightly aback before Alphys hands me another chart.

 

“What about orange…?” I inquire of him more gently this time, worried I’ve struck a nerve.

 

“bravery.” This time, he sounds tender, solemn even. It’s such a stark difference in reactions I’m compelled to ask him why, but decide against it. Something tells me it would dredge up something that’s not my business. Alphys hands me the rest of the charts and I begin to flip through him, asking of each.

 

“Blue?”

 

“integrity.” Sans’s voice slips into its usual easy tone, and I hope I’m off thin ice.

 

“Purple?”

 

“perseverance.”

 

“Green?” I hand him the remaining two charts, and he examines the first before answering.

 

“kindness.” He flips to the final chart, taking a look. “yellow’s justice.”

 

“And red is determination.” It’s the only one without a chart, so I know I’ll need to find someone with a red SOUL for the project for sure.

 

“well, color me surprised, sounds like you know plenty.” Sans gives the charts back to Alphys, his grin widening as I can’t keep a smile off my face. Stupid puns.

 

“As y-you’ll note though, th-they all contain a presence of s-some amount of th-the other traits… H-however, I will a-admit, the e-equipment in the Underground m-may not have c-captured all available l-light, even in one SOUL. S-spectral a-analysis may be e-easier here, and yield m-more results.” Alphys muses as she reassembles her folder. “I-I’ll get started on a m-machine here. I-it shouldn’t be too hard, th-there are plenty of r-resources available.” She cracks a small smile. “W-we may be able to start n-next week.”

 

“That’d be awesome! Gives me a little time to try to find some participants.” I immediately begin thinking about where I can put up information about the study.

 

“just let me know when i need to be here.” Sans yawns, his eyes shutting for a brief moment. I’m not sure how a skeleton is so emotive, but the more I’m around him, the less it bothers me.

 

“Sans w-will help us w-with extracting the SOULs f-for brief periods o-of time. Less s-stress on us t-trying to b-bring people i-into a c-confrontation. Th-that way, nobody r-risks any HP.” Alphys explains simply.

 

“You won’t either?” I ask Sans, wanting to ensure all risk is minimal. For everyone. Even though he looks like he could probably handle himself.

 

“nah, kiddo. i’m a professional. it’s simple.” He winks to reassure me, the bright white lights of his eyes resting much more easily on me this time.

 

“Okay.” I smile a little, looking back to Alphys. “I can come in to help you with the equipment too.”

 

“Th-that sounds nice.” She returns the grin, and we’re all smiling by that point.

 

“i’ll supply lunch for a while.” Sans chuckles, adding, “though i guess you’ll be dealing with a lot of dijon vu…”

 

“Wow.” I rub my face, shaking my head. “That was the worst yet.”

 

“you mean best.” Snickering, Sans shrugs off my insincere criticism all too easily. I’m going to have to work on getting back at him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> lowkey pretty proud of myself for keeping up the daily uploads, but lord knows how much longer I can continue doing that. Doing my best though!  
> SO much smiling this chapter too... that'll change real soon though, don't you worry. ;) And when I bring the pain, boy, I bring it.  
> Thank you for stopping by and reading!


	6. Dark Matter

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Explicit material if you choose to skip: Reader's nightmare flashes back to her mother's mistreatment.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've decided to go ahead and change the rating based on the scene at the beginning of the chapter. I've inserted two lines as well to show where you should scroll between if you want to skip the part. This is my first fanfiction on AO3 so I'm not really sure how people tend to do this normally, but I think I'll be using the chapter summaries to detail what people miss if they do decide to skip. If anybody would prefer me doing it a different way or needs me to make a larger distinction, please let me know. I typically don't like including page breaks and things like that because sometimes my intention is to bend the line between reality and a dream, but I know it's best to alert readers to the content. 
> 
> That said, thank you for stopping by! I hope you enjoy!

* * *

* * *

 

 

I want to die.

 

“Aw, sweetie, don’t you look cute tonight?” The slurring drunkard who’s supposed to be my mother speaks from her barstool, slouching as she watches me.

 

“Mom, we need to go home… I have work tomorrow too.” Fuck. “Where’s dad?” I don’t want to even be in her vicinity. I want to kill her.

 

“He’s no fun… C’mere, sit down.” I step closer, but refuse to sit. I want to run away.

 

I don’t know what I want.

 

“Where did dad go?” I repeat, my vision flickering slightly. A smattering of blood on the pavement. I know what happens next.

 

Please, fucking wake up.

 

**_You had been doing so well too…_ **

****

**_You are in too deep._ **

 

“It doesn’t matter, ____. Sit the fuck down.” Cold and jagged, her voice is a serrated blade.

 

“Mom, we really need to go…” I take her arm, pulling her to her feet. She sways briefly before her eyes lock on mine and she stills. A smile spreads across her face. She looks down my body, then reaches over and grabs me by the chest, squeezing my breasts hard through my button-down shirt.

 

“What the fuck, mom?!” I shove her, wide-eyed and disbelieving, even though I’ve seen this before. She’s surprisingly stable on her feet, grinning at me.

 

“You look so good in your work clothes tonight; what is it? Did you make some good tips tonight?” Tears flood my eyes as the shock starts to fade off all too quickly.

 

“D-don’t fucking touch me like that again.” I raise my voice, folding my arms over my chest protectively.

 

“I _made_ you, sweetheart. I can touch you wherever I want.” Now I know what I want to do. Vomit.

 

Her face contorts wickedly. Fuck.

 

* * *

 

* * *

 

 

 

I lurch awake, gasping for breath and clutching at my chest for relief from the pressure I feel beginning to swell, threatening to splinter my ribs right apart. Squeezing my eyes shut, I grasp onto the sheets beneath me tightly, reassuring myself I’m in my room; but when I reopen my eyes, it all looks unfamiliar.

 

“Breathe.” I beg myself, whispering hoarsely into the dark as my thoughts race to catch up to reality. That’s where I am. I am in my room. The door is locked. I am safe.

 

I hold my breath for a moment, forcing control. It helps, and I try opening my eyes again. This time, things look slightly more familiar. I am in my new room. It has been a good week. I need a Nice Cream.

 

Shakily, I manage to find my water bottle at my bedside table, taking a long swig from it and looking around the room. On Wednesday, Dr. Abernathy instructed me to move into the family and graduate dorms on campus, and that would be what I’m to be given in place of the increase in my stipend. I’m grateful, certainly, though I miss my old room, and my kitchen especially. The dorm does have a community kitchen, but I have to go downstairs and possibly interact with people I don’t know. Not in the mood for that right now.

 

I rub my face, cold sweat slicking off on my fingers. I wipe them on my shirt, finding that soaked as well. Looks like I’ll be washing the sheets later today. With a sigh, I settle my water bottle back down and pick up my phone, unlocking it. The numbers on the screen read 2:42AM, a text notification from an unknown number popping up just beneath it.

 

 

_???-???-???? (2:37AM)_

_knock knock_

I wipe my eyes before reading the message again, blinking in the harsh light emitted from the screen. I decide there really isn’t any harm in answering, maybe I’ll feel better if I do. I have a little idea of who it may be anyway. Who else would be sending knock-knock jokes at 2 in the morning.

 

 

_xxx-xxx-xxxx (2:43AM)_

_Who’s there?_

I stand to undress, peeling the sweaty t-shirt off my frame and replacing it with a clean one. Hearing a buzz while I have the shirt over my head, I pull it the rest of the way on, picking my phone up and reading.

 

 

_???-???-???? (2:44AM)_

_hawaii_

_xxx-xxx-xxxx (2:46AM)_

_Hawaii who?_

_???-???-???? (2:47AM)_

_i’m fine, how’re you?_

_-this is sans, by the way. alph gave me your number the other day._

 

A small smile tugs at my cheeks, though it quickly passes. I add his contact information in my phone, suspicions about the identity of the texter confirmed.

 

 

_xxx-xxx-xxxx (2:48AM)_

_I’m hanging in there. What’re you doing up?_

_Sans (2:49AM)_

_same reason i bet you’re up._

_-can’t sleep._

_xxx-xxx-xxxx (2:49AM)_

_Yeah, that’s about right._

No reason to elaborate on the reason why. I place my phone aside for a brief moment, pulling the sheets off the bed and draping the comforter over the bare mattress before checking again.

 

 

_Sans (2:51AM)_

_grabbing some grub always helps put me out. want to?_

Sitting down on my bed, I reach under the frame to pull my trusty blanket bin out, selecting a large plush one to serve as my covers for the rest of the night. I pull it over my shoulders for the moment, thinking a moment before typing a response.

 

 

_xxx-xxx-xxxx (2:53AM)_

_This late? Is there any place still *open* right now?_

_Sans (2:54AM)_

_you humans have thankfully created several establishments that serve insomniacs. taco bell and waffle house donut sound too bad to me._

_xxx-xxx-xxxx (2:54AM)_

_So fake-Mexican-food grease or breakfast grease?_

_Sans (2:55AM)_

_eggsactly._

_xxx-xxx-xxxx (2:55AM)_

_Alright, I’ll bite. Waffle House._

_Sans (2:56AM)_

_heh. nice one, kiddo. i’ll come getcha. be a lot faster that way._

I heave a little sigh, standing and depositing the blanket unceremoniously on the bed. A warm meal in the pit of my stomach might help get me back to sleep, and Sans probably isn’t the worst company. At least he’ll keep the laughs coming. I navigate to the dresser, exchanging my PJ bottoms for black leggings so that I at least appear moderately dressed. Though if I didn’t, it wouldn’t be the first time I’d been to an establishment in pajamas. College required that sometimes. I plop down on the floor to pull my tennis shoes on, quickly texting back.

 

 

_xxx-xxx-xxxx (2:58AM)_

_Did Alphys give you my address or do you need that?_

_Sans (2:59AM)_

_nah. heard the doc talking about moving you into that dorm or something. i’ll just wait outside._

Before heading out, I step to the mirror, tying my hair up in a bun and grabbing my wallet and keys, along with a light zip-up hoodie. Double-checking the locks, I head down the hall, skipping the elevator and a chance to run into someone for the stairwell. It’s quicker anyway. I arrive at the bottom, shouldering the door open to find Sans already present, leaned up against the building like he’s been waiting forever.

 

“Still no regard for space and time, huh?” I’ve begun teasing him about his teleportation after experiencing it for a week. I start walking, expecting him to follow.

 

“none.” All singsong as he falls into stride beside me, Sans pushes his hands in his pockets. He’s wearing the same blue hoodie he has been all this time, though he appears to have traded his gym shorts for a pair of black PJ pants, and his tennis shoes for fluffy pink slippers. I can’t help but smile a little at those, nudging one with my foot when we stop at a crosswalk.

 

“Those are nice. Aren’t you worried they’ll get dirty though?”

 

“nah. i’m too lazy for real shoes this time of night, anyway.”

 

“You’re almost too lazy for them _all_ the time.”

 

“are you always this sharp at three in the morning?” He chuckles lightly, shaking his head, but not denying the fact. “you wound me.”

 

“Sorry.” I giggle softly, but apologize anyway, crossing the street at the signal. Over the past week, I’d grown close to both Alphys and Sans over our work. In the morning, Alphys and I would put the machines necessary for the experiment together based on her blueprints. Around noon every day, Sans dropped by with hotdogs, ‘dogs, or apostrophe-dogs as he’d sometimes call them depending on what kind of mood he was in. He’d eat with us and crack a few jokes before heading back to work. After lunch, Alphys continued her work, while I sent countless emails to spread the word that we’re looking for participants. Our partnership is almost perfect, and I found myself enjoying work to the point where I didn’t want the weekend to come around.

 

“well, don’t waffle on me, kiddo. you coming in or what?” I jump a little, realizing I’ve stopped walking just outside the restaurant. Groaning in response to his pun, I tug the door open.

 

“I should have picked Taco Bell.”

 

“if you got a problem with me, we can taco ‘bout it.” He sniggers behind me as I physically stop in my tracks, allowing him to walk right into me.

 

“Brake check!” I pipe just before it’s too late, bracing myself. Sure enough, it works perfectly, and Sans staggers forward after smacking into me.

 

“oof!” He coughs once or twice, his eyes flickering dark as he shoots me a glare. I laugh at him, even though he’s more solid than I’d anticipated and my back ached slightly where his ribs smacked into my spine.

 

“Oh c’mon.” I wave him over, sitting down in one of the small booths available. His eyes brighten again after a few seconds, and he rolls them at me before following suit, sitting across from me.

 

“you’re clearly just jealous of my punning skills.” Sans huffs at me, leaning forward and taking the menu I’m just about to grab.

 

“Obviously.” I snort a little, letting my hand drop. I know what I want to eat anyway.

 

“what’re you getting?” He asks after a moment of silence in which I can see the white lights of his eyes flicking over the laminated menu.

 

“Why, are you going to make a pun about it?”

 

“probably.” A smirk crosses his face and I sigh heavily, shaking my head.

 

“God, you’re awful.”

 

“an awful waffle.” The waiter, seemingly a randomly-shaped geometric monster, approaches before I can chide him for not really making a joke and just rhyming.

 

“Hi there! What can I get you guys to drink?” Sans motions for me to go first, so I answer.

 

“Chocolate milk.” Nothing quite like the nostalgia of that particular beverage.

 

“ketchup.” The shapely monster doesn’t appear fazed by Sans’s request, and goes off to get our drinks. “so, you ready for tomorrow?” Sans turns his attention back to me, laying the menu down on the table.

 

“Yeah. I mean, I probably won’t be when I have to get up, since we’re out this late. But yeah, I’m excited. It looks like we’ll be ready to start this week; we just need to run a test.” I stop talking as the waiter returns, somehow carrying the drinks in his pointy hands. But he makes it work, settling them down before us.

 

“Are you ready to order?” I look to Sans to make sure, and he nods, but allows me to order first again.

 

“Can I have a chocolate chip waffle, please, with a side of bacon?” The waiter nods, then turns to Sans. He pauses for a few seconds.

 

“sorry, i don’t mean to waffle on ya. can I get that, ah… blueberry waffle, with two eggs, and a large order of hashbrowns?”

 

“Extra ketchup?” The waiter inquires knowingly.

 

“ah, now you’re ketching up.” Sans winks at the waiter, who disappears once more. I lean my head back, groaning loudly. “you only do that ‘cause you like it. if you didn’t, you wouldn’t have come out.” A perceptive simper lights up his eyes; he’s caught me. My back instantly straightens in my seat, cheeks flushing hotly.

 

“Yeah… Yeah, okay, you’re right.” I admit with a sigh, glaring halfheartedly across the table at him.

 

“well, i know i’m not left, so…” He nonchalantly lifts the ketchup bottle to his teeth, opening his maw to take a long, taunting swig of ketchup. I can do nothing but roll my eyes at him, slouching forward on the table. I grab a straw, unwrapping part of the wrapper to leave some over one end, placing the opposite end in my mouth and huffing a breath, firing the projectile. It’s a direct hit, the bit of paper lodging in the small part of his clavicle that’s not quite covered by his undershirt and hoodie. I burst into peals of laughter, clutching my stomach and just about rolling in my seat. The next time I look up, his eyes are narrowed at me, gaze calculating. “you’re a plucky little one, aren’t ya?”

 

“Yep. That’s me. Plucky.” I giggle in spite of the dangerous look he’s giving me.

 

“that’s fine. i’ll just have to get you back.” The waiter stops by in just that moment to leave me wondering what on earth he could mean by that, dropping off our food.

 

“Do you guys have everything you need?” He asks gently, smiling for us.

 

“yup, we got it all. thanks.” Sans shoos the waiter off, clearly eager to eat. The waiter nods and leaves us once more, allowing us to chow down.

 

A comfortable hush settles over us as we dig in, burying ourselves in the greasy deliciousness. My waffle tastes like literal heaven, the ambrosia that is my chocolate milk a godsend. Any last little bit of leftover anxiety from my nightmare fades away in the warmth of the food and Sans’s company. I look up at him after a little while as I’m nearing the last few bites of bacon, finding his cheekbones dusted with the slightest bit of blue that fades just as soon as I’ve seen it. He’s completely smothered his hashbrowns in ketchup, and is devouring them as if his life depends on it.

 

“Where does it all go?” I ask before I realize how awful that sounds, quickly clamping my mouth shut before backtracking. “Oh God, no, I’m sorry, don’t answer that. I’m so stupid.” I cover my face for a moment, moaning at how racist that likely was.

 

“nah, it’s natural. i kinda wondered the same about humans when i first met one.” To my surprise, Sans just chuckles at my question, then answers it. “it depends on the type of food it is. like, this is human food, so it doesn’t do much for me, just sort of fills a need. monster food, though. that gets converted into magic, basically. it just tastes so much better, too.” Then, he looks up at me, his expression quizzical before the pinpricks of his eyes pop into little hearts. “you ever been to grillby’s, kid?”

 

“The one that was really popular in the Underground, and reopened on the Surface like last year? I’ve heard of it, but I’ve never been. I’ve always been kind of curious though.” I concede, smiling a little sheepishly.

 

“alright, next time.” The matter’s settled in Sans’s mind, and he nods agreeably as his eyes return their normal roundness.

 

“Next time? Are we going to make a habit of this?” I laugh a little, but the idea sounds pretty nice.

 

“depends on how long we intend on staying insomniacs.” He finishes off his food decisively, looking to me for my commitment.

 

“Well, it’ll definitely be long enough to go to Grillby’s.” My answer is acceptable to him, his grin stretching just slightly larger. He stands up, stepping out of the booth. “Where’re you going?” I furrow my brow, confused.

 

“i got this, kiddo. you can get us at grillbs’.” He’s at the register before I can stop him.

 

“Sans, no! Please, let me pay half.” I turn around in the seat, starting to scooch out to follow him.

 

“nah, this is how i’m gonna force you to go to grillbs’ with me.” I sigh softly, allowing him to pay, figuring it’s useless to fight him on it, especially when I intend to go to Grillby’s with him anyway. He returns to the booth, standing over me. “now, you owe me.” Sans winks down at me, offering his hand.

 

“Alright, alright. I owe you.” I take it, his smooth phalanges wrapping around my fingers, his touch slightly warmer than I expect. We shake on the agreement and he pulls me to my feet.

 

“make like a banana and split?”

 

“Or we could make like a baby and head out.” I spin on my heel, leaving Sans to think about that one. It takes a second, but I’m rewarded with an almost hysterical series of chuckles out of him. Padded footsteps bring him to my side as we leave the building; he’s panting slightly to catch his breath.

 

“i-i’ve never heard that one; that was awesome.” He confesses openly, smile so big it looks like it’s about to fall off his face, the smallest blue tears of laughter in his eye sockets.

 

“I have to admit, it makes me feel very accomplished to know that I’ve impressed you with a joke.” I can’t help but grin back at him, stuffing my hands in my pockets a little smugly.

 

“you’ve won this round, for sure.” Sans walks me back to my dorm, retracing our steps onto campus once more. He comes to a stop where I’d met up with him. “think you’ve got it from here?”

 

“Oh yeah, definitely. But let me know when you get home too.” It’s a matter of habit, something I do with all my friends. He doesn’t even question it.

 

“i will. see ya tomorrow, kid.” I expect him to disappear, but when he doesn’t, I realize he’s waiting for me to head inside before doing so. I oblige, smiling back at him as I take the door in my hand.

 

“See you then, Sans.” I step inside and head up the stairs, back to my room. My phone gives a soft buzz just before I unlock the door, and I stop to look down at it.

 

 

_Sans (3:51AM)_

_i’m in. night, kid._

I turn the key in the lock, pushing the door open and stepping into the darkness of my room. Closing and locking the door behind me again, I flop down on my bed, wallowing in my blanket before plugging my phone into the wall and answering him.

 

 

_xxx-xxx-xxxx (3:53AM)_

_Me too. Night, Sans._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So a little pain, followed by IMMENSE FLUFF. Later on it'll be more like IMMENSE PAIN followed by a little fluff. We're starting to move this story along I think. More Undertale characters next chapter!  
> Until next time, thank you for reading!


	7. Exhibition

Waking up the following morning isn’t as bad as I believed it would be the night before, though I’m still thankful for the extra fifteen minutes of sleep I can take since my bike ride has been shortened. Getting to my feet and stretching, I decide on just a granola bar this morning, my belly still fairly full of chocolate chip waffle. Which allows me a little more time. I go through the motions of my morning routine, selecting a black pair of scrubs for the day, grey tank for the ride over as usual. I braid my bangs back into my ponytail with the extra amount of time I’ve been granted, needing every moment of it as my hair turns into a big fat baby. I manage to get it to calm down with a little more work, strolling out of the bathroom to grab that granola bar.

 

I’m on the road perfectly on time, my new path taking me downhill the entire time, which could prove useful if I’m ever late, god forbid. The evening ride could be a bit of a bitch though.

 

Within moments, I’m pulling into the back of the lab, locking my bike to its usual shelf. I stroll right inside, flashing my ID to the lion-like monster security guard. After the door closes and locks behind me, I make my way toward the elevator. I depress the “up” button and step back to wait. Down the hall, a door clicks open, and I turn my head toward the noise.

 

“yeah. fine. alright, doc. i know, i heard you. yeah, next time--” It’s Sans, holding one half of a conversation as he exits the room; he freezes when he sees I’ve spotted him, the lights in his eyes shrinking to almost nothing. I smile at him, lifting a hand to wave at him. “bye.” He looks back into the room and instantly disappears without a trace.

 

I let my hand drop, blinking a little, thoroughly confused. The elevator doors open, and I peer down the hallway, knowing the only thing down that way is Dr. Abernathy’s office and a couple of conference rooms. I immediately wonder if I’ve done something wrong, sighing hard and rubbing my face before pressing the button for the fourth floor, leaning back for the ride. Fucking great.

 

While I still don’t know all that much about Sans, it seemed like he wanted to be my friend. Not sure how willing he’ll be now that I’ve affronted him somehow.

 

The elevator doors squeak open, and I drag myself down the hall to the workspace Alphys and I have constructed. Maybe I can talk to her about it. Just before I swipe my keycard at the door, a loud crash sounds from inside the room. I shove inside as fast as I can, yanking on the door several times before it actually unlocks, stumbling forward when I finally manage to get it open. To my intense relief, Alphys is rolling on the floor, laughing hysterically and surrounded by miscellaneous rod-shaped metal items.

 

“O-oh my G-God!” She snorts happily, quickly getting to her feet. “I-I didn’t think I-I’d actually r-roll!”

 

“I always knew you could! You tuck up in that cute little ball of fear when you’re afraid or embarrassed! Fuhuhu!” Alphy’s girlfriend, Undyne, is insanely more intimidating without the Sailor Neptune cosplay I’d seen her pictured in, instead wearing a black leather jacket and ripped blue jeans, projecting ferocity. Undyne is six feet of sinewy muscle and sea-blue scales, her bright red ponytail even more fiery in person.

 

She scoops Alphys up like she weighs absolutely nothing, lifting her high above her head before bringing her back down and kissing her cheek hard. Alphys visibly melts in her arms, staggering a little when she’s placed on her feet once more. I close the door rather loudly, making sure they’ve heard me come in, and Undyne’s on me in a second.

 

“HUMAN!” Abruptly, I’m swept off my feet into an almost backbreaking embrace, then settled back down. Undyne clenches her fists, getting into a fighting stance as I stumble and try to catch my breath. “Let’s see how tough you are! Alphys thinks you could probably hold your own in a fight, but NOBODY stands a chance against me!” I definitely believe what she says, backing up and holding my hands defensively.

 

“I didn’t s-say y-you should f-fight her! I-I just said she didn’t l-look c-completely wimpy!” Alphys rushes to Undyne’s side and latches onto her leg. Undyne grumbles lightly, her unpatched eye flashing to me once more.

 

“TELL ME, HUMAN! Can you cook the finest cuisine?! CAN YOU LIFT A GIGANTIC BOULDER ABOVE YOUR HEAD?!” Undyne’s voice is invigorating, and I feel compelled to shout proudly back.

 

“I can cook okay sometimes and I can lift a small one, probably!” Undyne stares at me incredulously for a moment before dropping her fists.

 

“Fuhuhuhu, at least she’s honest!” She laughs boisterously, grinning from fin to fin. “Hiya, human, I’m Undyne! It’s nice to meet someone who’s as big a NERD as my girlfriend!” Undyne noogies Alphys while she’s still stuck to her leg, causing Alphys to slip off.

 

“It’s nice to meet you too! Alphys has told me so much about you.” I smile a little anxiously.

 

“Same for you, nerd!” Undyne cackles, folding her arms over her chest. “I took the morning off to watch you two nerds scuff up your science fair project.”

 

“W-well, h-hopefully it’ll be s-successful through and through… d-did you find a test s-subject for u-us?” Alphys turns to me buoyantly, playing with the edges of her lab coat.

 

“I did, actually… I was wondering if it would be alright with you if I was the test.” I’d imagined sounding a little more confident, but this morning hasn’t been going 100% as planned.

 

“U-uh!” Alphys looks a little nervous herself, and I can feel my hands begin to get damp. Her reaction isn’t 100% what I’d expected either. She gathers herself, however, nodding. “Y-yes, I don’t see w-why not!”

 

“Well, that’s if it ends up happening… I’m not really sure Sans is coming today.” I hedge awkwardly. Alphys expression shifts into one of shock, blinking a little as she adjusts her glasses.

 

“Wh-why not?! H-he said he was r-ready when I-I texted h-him this morning…”

 

“I saw into him downstairs and he seemed… kinda pissed at me. I don’t know why…” I trail off, biting my bottom lip out of habit. “He just looked at me and did his disappearing act.”

 

“O-oh… OH! O-oh, I-I think he’ll be f-fine. Th-that’s just, uh… h-he’s working on another p-project, a-a-and n-no one’s supposed to know about it!” Alphys just about shouts the second half of her statement, and I furrow my brow to think about what she’s said. Her inordinate amount of stuttering suggests something more’s going on, but that she either can’t or won’t divulge it to me.

 

“So he’s not mad, you don’t think?” I press slightly. I can figure out what he’s actually doing on the first floor at a later time, maybe even from him directly, just as long as he’s not angry with me.

 

“nah, i just hit my funny bone.” Almost as if on cue, Sans appears near one of the large desks in the room, leaning against it. “i didn’t find it very humerus, though. not gonna fibula.”

 

“Show off…” Undyne hisses softly, sitting down in one of the spinning-stools in the room. A wry little simper pulls at my lips, but I can’t quite come to smile fully at him, unease prickling at the back of my brain.

 

“yeah, kid. don’t worry. i just needed a little break.” Sans cracks his knuckles for emphasis, looking to Alphys. “so, alph, where’s the fresh meat? who’s diving in first?”

 

“____ h-has actually o-offered to be th-the t-test…” Alphys lingers on her words as Sans’s gaze seems to harden briefly, perhaps even flicking completely black, though I can’t quite see from where I’m standing. A pregnant silence fills the room, brief but plainly obvious.

 

“Is that, um… going to be a problem?” I blurt out after a moment, not patient enough to let it reach its own end.

 

“no.” Sans snaps out of it, the whites of his eyes resting on me. “nah, kid.”

 

“I j-just… I know y-you d-didn’t take it s-so well, y-you know, S-sans initially taking a look at y-your SOUL…” Alphys pipes up, fidgeting nervously. Her admission stirs a little raw feeling in my stomach, and I relax considerably.

 

“she told me, kid. i just didn’t wanna rattle your bones.” That comment draws out a small giggle as I shake my head.

 

“No, no, I’ll be alright. Alphys explained and everything. I’m cool now.”

 

“well, that’s ice to know.” Sans straightens his back, seeming to be preparing himself. “s’now or never, i think, alph.”

 

“R-right.” Alphys nods, removing a video camera from her desk and handing it to Undyne, who holds it with an incredibly steady hand. Not even a tripod could hold it more steadily. “Y-you know w-what to do, _____.” Alphys guides me with a gentle smile, and I follow her lead over to the machine we’d constructed.

 

The structure is quite impressive for only a week’s worth of work, though Alphys insists her skills have nothing to do with it, just the amount of resources on the Surface. Alphys, having built one of these machines before, modeled it after the one she built Underground; and while I admit I would have chosen a different design, the creation is stunning.

 

Wrought in curving steel, glass, and wires, it holds some similarity to a rattlesnake’s skull, bottom jaw divided for participants to step into. The “teeth” of the machine hold a wide variety of different probes, cameras, and prisms, points for analysis and gathering light refracted off the SOUL in question. Overhead, the two main “fangs” will amplify the SOUL’s wavelength. Proving it all works, the information should be recorded and displayed on several monitors.

 

This data, compiled together with interviews, tests, and observations, will hopefully provide the results necessary to officially correlate the contents of one’s SOUL with their personality.

 

Taking a deep breath, I step between the rift in the bottom “jaw”, making sure to empty my pockets before doing so. I quickly look over all the probes to ensure they’re all angled correctly, then give Alphys a thumbs-up. I can see Undyne’s started recording, the little red light blipping on and off before Alphys reaches over to cover it with a black piece of tape.

 

“alright, kid. this is going to be different from last time. you’re gonna feel this one.” Sans begins speaking as Alphys flips blackout curtains over the monitors, drawing the shades and confirming no light will be picked up by the probes other than what will be emitted from the SOUL. My SOUL. I swallow anxiously, and he picks up on it, immediately reassuring me. “don’t worry though. it’s not gonna hurt.” I nod. “you will feel a tug though, and it’s definitely going to look and feel funny. disembodied-like. whatever you do, don’t panic. trust me, i’ve been disembodied for years, and i’m fine.” He manages to make me laugh a little so I’ll relax.

 

I shut my eyes, taking one more deep breath and nodding to Alphys. She flips the switch, plunging us all into darkness. I can hear her lock the door to ensure no one will enter and disrupt the experiment, shuffling across the room. A few mouse-clicks pierce the hush that has fallen over us, signaling the true beginning. My eyes strain at the blackness, then glance down to the last place I’d seen Sans.

 

Barely audible, like a circuit shorting out continuously as it tries to connect, something buzzes at the very edge of my perception. The hair on the back of my neck and down my arms stands up straight, every nerve in my body a livewire. Electric blue light flickers to life from Sans’s left eyesocket, casting his face in an eerie ethereal glow, his mostly rounded features sharpening dramatically. I’m hyperaware of the predatory ambiance emanating from his body, his usually lax frame honed in. Shadows flit across my view as that luminescence stabilizes and suddenly alights on me. I’m frozen in awe, even as part of me screams to take flight, and even then an impossible heaviness settles over my frame. In his bright aqua radiance, a wracking tremor rushes up my spine as he levels his left hand with my chest. I grit my teeth, squeezing my eyes shut and bracing myself for whatever comes next.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> gasp, what could Sans be up to on the first floor?! GASP. Probably no good. You'll find out soon enough though. So will the Reader.   
> Also, yes, Undyne was using her girlfriend as a bowling ball. I just imagine that being something they'd do. And that Alphys would turn into a cute little ball if she ever got scared. *points to the sky in hopes headcanon will be accepted*   
> Also, I'm pretty obviously not a physicist. Throwing vague science over here lol. If it sounds really awful, please tell me and I'll try to fix it to make it more scientifically accurate.
> 
> Let me know what you think! Thank you so much for reading! :)


	8. Gravity

There's a quiet calmness in this moment. If this all goes wrong, if I splinter into nothingness, I’ve come to terms with the end of my existence. Science has quite a bit of risk involved. I’m perfectly aware of that, in the eye of Sans’s storm, completely at his mercy.

 

His left hand presses firmly against my sternum, phalanges digging into my skin even through my shirt for just a brief moment. Then, he steps back, a tugging sensation building oddly behind my ribs. The thing caged within my bones attempts to follow Sans, and I can see his grin turn slightly self-assured. He has it.

  
Stepping back once more, he directs the palm of his hand up, curling his fingers inward gently, not completely closing a fist. My breath hitches very briefly and I shut my eyes, willing myself to let go…

 

Cool light floods the room, leaking through my eyelids, and I can’t help but look. A heart-shaped vessel about the size of my hand slips from my skin, warmth blossoming then immediately fading as it completely separates from my body. Bobbing up and down like a ship at sea on the empty air, the SOUL, contained in azure magic, comes to rest at exactly the point it should.

 

Sans releases the SOUL from his hold, letting his hand fall to his side as his left eye flickers out. Almost instantly, a soft indigo radiance commandeers the darkness, pushing it away in gentle ebbs and flows. It takes me a moment to realize such a beautiful thing is mine… until I recognize cracks etching over the surface of the SOUL. I know then, certainly, this is mine. The SOUL wavers slightly in front of me; and in the dim light, I can just barely make out Sans’s raising his hand once more, in case it falters. My expression twists; the longer I look, more cracks seem to appear, white fissures splintering across the vessel. The SOUL’s pulsing seems insistent, searching, begging even. I feel a protective urge welling both in my chest and, weirdly, in the SOUL a few feet away, and the sensation is disorienting. It takes everything I have not to take the SOUL in my hands and push it back into my chest.

 

Finally, after what feels like an eternity, Sans’s aqua blue magic envelopes the SOUL once more, and the panging ceases as he gently eases it back beneath my ribs. With the finality of the mild pressure from his hand against my chest, a thick darkness coats the room once more.

 

“HOLY SHIT, THAT WAS BORING!” Undyne’s voice breaks the silence rather deftly as Alphys goes about lifting the shades, allowing golden sunlight back into the room. “Never again, Alphys! It was all so gentle and light.” She raises her voice an entire octave to harp on her adjectives, rolling her eye.

 

“W-well it’s s-supposed to be that w-way! I-if w-we had everyone e-enter c-confrontation, th-that would be too d-dangerous!”

 

“FUHUHU! Babe, ‘danger’ is my middle name!” Undyne’s abruptly standing with one leg on the chair she’d occupied, hands on her hips with the widest toothy smile possible on her lips. Shakily, I ease myself into a seated position on the floor, still inside the machine but too overwhelmed to move just yet.

 

“kiddo, you okay down there…?” Sans bends down a little in front of me, his features back to normal. I can hardly keep eye contact for longer than a split second, just nodding. Surely, he’d seen those flaws just as much as I had, maybe even more. Pulling my knees to my chest, I rest my chin on top of them, hugging myself a little. Shit. Sans lingers, and I shut my eyes. Bitter, I don’t want to see any of his pity.

 

“’m fine.” I mumble, hoping he’ll accept the answer.

 

“Actually, your middle name is ‘the’…” Alphys continues chiding her girlfriend as she moves about the lab, unveiling all our sources of light.

 

“NGAAHHHH! That isn’t the point! Ugh, whatever, you three just keep being NERDS!” While Undyne sounds angry, she still stops to pull up a shade that had been too tall for Alphys before leaving.

 

“W-well…” Alphys sighs after a moment, checking on the monitors. “I s-saw indigo, I don’t know a-about you both.” Thankfully, she’s too caught up in the overflow of data to notice I’m struggling to gather myself. I glance up, knowing I have to answer her, making eye contact with Sans instead. Instead of pity, there’s something else, deeper. Even in just those pinpricks of light, I can tell it’s more. Like empathy. God, but I hope it’s not. I shudder slightly, looking away quickly.

 

“Y-yeah, that’s what I saw…” My eyes flash back to Sans, and I wonder if he’s going to rat me out. His expression hardens slightly before he turns to Alphys, and I’m sure I’m done for.

 

“yup. me too.” What is he doing?

 

“Y-you didn’t s-see a-anything different, Sans?” Alphys quizzes him a little more, knowing he’d be the one to observe any oddities out of the three of us.

 

“nope. just, i don’t know about hue, but i didn’t expect that color.” His pun sounds a little halfhearted, but Alphys doesn’t seem to pick up on it. I cast him a desperate look as I push myself to my feet. Sans simply turns away from me, walking to the window and looking out. I don’t want to upset him, but at the same time it’s not his information to reveal… however, in a way it is. A thought occurs to me that I’m infringing on the experiment by not uncovering the full nature of my SOUL… cracks and all. I begin to chew on my lip once more out of anxiety, a coppery taste filling my mouth rather abruptly. I quickly wipe at my face before approaching Alphys; I must have bitten down too hard at some point during the experiment.

 

“Hm… well… The s-spectral analysis d-doesn’t appear entirely d-different f-from the SOULs I’ve seen b-before.” Rubbing my shoulder, I approach her side to examine the findings she’s scrolling through on the computer. Oddly enough, there is no indigo present in the continuum of light presented on the screen.

 

“Why was my SOUL showing indigo outwardly, if there isn’t any to be found…?” Trailing quietly, I examine the amounts of the other colors. Blue and purple are present in by far the largest amounts, with orange and red showing few and far between. “I wonder what the exact count on blue and purple would be.”

 

“I-I agree… b-but you s-still need to take th-the tests, j-just so we have a f-full file.” Alphys nods pleasantly.

 

“I will this afternoon while I handle booking participants… Think we’re a go?” Some alone time in a workroom would allow me to recover, admittedly.

 

“I-I think so.” Alphys smiles excitedly, then jumps as a figurative lightbulb pops into her head. “O-OH! I f-found us o-our red SOUL.”

 

“That’s excellent! Who is it?” If I force a smile onto my face long enough, I’ll start believing it. That’s what research says.

 

“Frisk h-has volunteered. Th-they’ll be i-in t-tomorrow.” Movement out of the corner of my eye draws my attention. Sans is standing much straighter than he had been just seconds before, hands clenched in his pockets.

 

“That’s uh… that’s great, Alphys!” The words leave my mouth a bit distractedly, though I do mean them.

 

“I-It is! Then w-we’ll have c-controls for all the SOULs.” Alphys plays around with the formatting of the results before selecting to print them off. “D-Do you want a c-copy?”

 

“Sure, if that’s okay…” A feeble smile is all I can really manage, though I want to appear happy.

 

“I’ll be right b-back with th-those!” Waddling out of the room, Alphys heads down the hallway to the copy room, leaving Sans and I effectively alone. I glance back at him nervously, hearing him take in a breath like he wants to say something. It takes him a few more breaths before he decides to speak.

 

“you can’t keep that a secret forever. it comes out eventually. whether you want it to or not.”

 

“Sans, I’m fine.” I muster up as much stability as I can in my voice, willing myself to sound whole. Even though I’m not.

 

“yeah.” He heaves a hard sigh, stuffing his hands back in his pockets. When Alphys returns with the printouts, he strolls for the door himself. “i mustard up the will to go to work, alph, so i better relish this opportunity and go.” Alphys groans and rolls her eyes in response, pushing her spectacles up her nose.

 

“O-okay, Sans. Stay in t-touch!” She calls after him, then remarks when he’s gone. “Th-that’s the first time I-I’ve seen h-him use a d-door in a while.” I laugh a little feebly, nodding. There’s nothing more I can do now but bury myself in work. And there’s plenty to do.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Nothing brings ya down like gravity. :) Sans will keep yer secret, BUT FOR HOW LONG. GASP.   
> SLOW BURN PEOPLE I'M REALLY TRYING HERE haha.   
> I've got work the next 5 days in a row, so I don't know if I can continue updating super-fast, but I'll do my best to keep it up. Next chapter, we're gonna have a little PAPYRUSSSSS (hell yiss) and perhaps some Frisk and Toriel, but I'll have to see where I end up. If not, they'll be in the following chapter. 
> 
> Thank you for continuing to read! My tumblr is here if you wanna say hey: onthewingsoficarus.tumblr.com


	9. Shelter

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies if anything in this chapter is messed up, writing on my iPad wasn't working with Sans's dialogue very well lol. I'll take a look through it when I get home from work. 
> 
> Thank you for reading!

I spend the vast majority of the rest of the day in my own little corner of the workspace, set up in front of a laptop and clacking away. Most of the time, I’m doing what I'm supposed to and emailing people who’d responded to my listserv announcements. However, I can’t keep myself from scouring the Internet for help with my situation.

“My SOUL has cracks” just pulls up literature, romanticized and not referring at all to the correct ‘soul’. “Can someone’s SOUL break” brings up gifs of a red SOUL shattering, observations from fights that had erupted between monsters and humans indicating that indeed, they can break. But not in the way I’m looking for. Throughout the rest of the day, I pepper my work with variations of my thoughts, unable to find anything. And with the knowledge that the person who likely knows the answer is just across the room. But I’m too ashamed to even hypothetically phrase that question.

Around 4:00PM, I get to my feet and stretch, logging off the computer. Alphys is still hard at work tweaking some of the mechanisms inside our machine, but I have to get moving.

“Hey Alphys, this is the last time I have to leave early. I’m sorry… But I have the surveys here for you.” I hold up the sheets of paper I’d filled out to complete my portion of the experiment, smiling weakly.

“N-no it’s fine! Y-you can j-just leave those o-on my d-desk. I-I’ll get the r-results back to you t-tomorrow morning.” She stops just briefly, grinning cheekily at me.

“Thanks, Alphys… I’d score them myself, but I know that wouldn’t be quite right for the project.” My voice scratches a little as it leaves my throat. What I really needed to do was head home and eat a pint of Nice Cream, but duty calls.

“Absolutely n-not. G-Go on, I know w-we’re going to be b-busy as h-heck tomorrow.” Shooing me off with her power drill, Alphys bends down back over her work.

“See you tomorrow.” I call over my shoulder as I deposit the papers on her desk, leaving her to her adjustments.

After riding the elevator down alone, I wind up on the first floor, alone in the hallway. I start to walk towards the exit until a door clicks open down the hall, and I look back to check who it may be. Dr. Abernathy is leaving his office a little early for the day, it seems. I silently note that this is the same door Sans came out of this morning. He turns back to lock the door, then looks my way, a firm expression on his face even as I raise my hand in greeting.

“Leaving so soon?” As if he isn’t doing the same, I remark mentally. He approaches, and I fall into step beside him since the both of us appear to be heading for the same place.

“Yes, sir. It’s my last day at the restaurant.” He finds my answer satisfactory and nods.

“Do you like your coworkers?” It seems like an oddly caring question for someone as standoffish as him, but I reply anyway. Perhaps he’s more concerned since I’m likely his only pupil currently.

“I do. They’re both very kind.” I put an effort into smiling to emphasize that they are just as I say: kind. My mood otherwise wouldn’t really represent how I actually feel about them. Alphys is absolutely a friend; our interests are similar, and though we haven’t hung out outside of the lab, our easy conversation (aside from today) is sign enough. Sans, while secretive, clearly overly protective, and obviously dangerous if he wants to be, does seem to care. Might as well be a friend too. Most people don’t go to Waffle House at 3 in the morning unless they’re going with friends.

“Hmph… well, if they give you any problems, let me know.” He means to sound nonchalant, but it comes out hinging on racism. As a professor involved with the monster studies department, I’m shocked that he would maintain any sentiments remotely near that viewpoint.

“I don’t know what you could possibly mean.” I play the ignorant card, giving him the largest grin I can manage. Dr. Abernathy’s gaze freezes over, clearly displeased. I push through the door, not bothering to linger much longer. “Bye, Dr. Abernathy! I’ll see you!” Speed-walking to my bike, I quickly unlock it and roll it out of the garage before hopping on, leaving him far behind.

Coasting for the most part, I resolve to try to enjoy my last day at work, in spite of the troubling state of my SOUL. I’ve liked working as a waitress well enough, but for the sake of my own sanity I can’t keep it up at the same time as my position with the university. With a few minutes to spare likely because of my quick exit, I arrive at the local Italian restaurant and slip into the back to change into my all-black uniform. That’s another thing I won’t miss: constantly looking like I’m in mourning.

I greet my fellow coworkers and make small talk as I pull on my apron and take stock of my pens and wine key. A few of them, mostly the monsters, are excited for me and ask me questions about the project; and although I’m not in the best frame of mind, I do my best to answer them and suggest that they come by to participate. Most of the others are just there to do their jobs and go home, which I can respect and still exchange the “hello, how’re you?” with them.

We gather around a few tables to go through our daily specials after everything’s been set up to open. My boss takes a moment to acknowledge that it’s my last night, echoes of “aww” and “we’ll miss you” piping from my coworkers. Blushingly, I quietly thank them and promise to make my last one a great one.

Fifteen minutes later, I’m plunged into the throes of a busy dinner shift with them, thankful for the distraction from today’s events. I go through the motions naturally, easily falling into my groove.

Greet the table. Bring them water. Tell them the specials. Attend to something else for a moment or greet another table. Come back and take the order with a little light banter. Put the order in the computer. Cut them bread. Bring them salads. Linger by the expo counter. Stare longingly at the carbs in the window. Return to pick up salad plates. Make a joke about letting them lick the plate if they want. “I won’t judge”. Drop the dishes off. Wash hands. Make grabby hands at more carbs. Restrain myself. Check on other coworkers. Somehow manage to carry four plates in two hands. Impress table with skills. Stand back by the window for a moment. Go check on them. Leave them alone to repeat the same with another table. Ask about dessert. Bring the check. Tell them to have a great night. On to the next one.

Four hours pass almost like minutes, and soon I’m busying myself with rolling silverware instead of handling tables. However, after a few moments I’m interrupted by the hostess.

“Hey, you got a table.” Young and peppy, she pokes me in the side, the cat-like monster flipping her hair just after.

“I’m not cut yet?” I furrow my brow a little, genuinely confused.

“Guess not. I haven’t heard anything.” She smiles disarmingly. “I’m sure the boss is just tryin’ ta get you to make a little more money before you gotta go.”

“Okay.” I stand up, straightening out my shirt. “How many is it?”

“Two in your booth.” She reports before turning and heading back to her post.

“Thanks.” I grab a couple of paper napkins off the stack nearby, mentally getting ready to go another round with the customers. I approach the table, automatically swinging into my greeting.

“Hey guys, welcome to—Oh my god.” I immediately come to a stop, blinking in a little shock as it appears I truly can’t escape the lab. Flushing hotly, I still manage to keep my smile a little sheepishly. “Hi…”

Crammed amusingly into my relatively small booth are Sans and another very tall skeleton-monster, garbed in an armor-esque outfit consisting of a white chestplate, red scarf, gloves, and boots in spite of the summer air, blue shorts laced with a bright golden belt. He appears to juxtapose Sans, lanky and angular in his features where Sans is stocky and rounded. While his eyes appear to be pupil-less and linear, this doesn’t seem to make them any less expressive, as his eyes immediately widen as he analyzes my form.

“SANS!! OH MY GOD!! IS THAT… YOUR NEW HUMAN FRIEND!?!?!??!?!” The skeleton looks rapidly between both Sans and I for confirmation.

“uhhhh… actually, i think that’s a napkin.” I follow Sans’s eyes to my feet, where one of the restaurant’s linen napkins has been discarded onto the floor.

“OH.”

“hey, what’s that behind the napkin?” Sans winks at me as he lifts his eyes, and I can’t help but giggle lightly.

“OH MY GOD!!! ‘AHEM’. HUMAN! I AM THE GREAT PAPYRUS! AND I WILL BEFRIEND YOU!” The taller skeleton poses with some difficulty in the booth, but still manages to make his appearance somehow more regal.

“isn’t my bro the coolest?” Sans leans on the table, looking up at Papyrus adoringly.

“I have to agree. He’s the coolest.” Papyrus gasps, cupping his cheekbones in his gloved hands briefly before extending one to me. I take it and he shakes my hand almost wildly with enthusiasm. Laughing, I pull my hand away.

“ANOTHER HUMAN WITH GOOD TASTE!”

“I do have to say it’s also very cool that you guys are hanging out together. Not a lot of families do that.” I smile kindly, pulling out my book and pen.

“AH BUT WE ARE NOT MOST FAMILIES. WE ARE THE BEST FAMILY.” Papyrus’s grin is contagious, and honestly I believe him. The love between the brothers seems as pure as it can possibly be, sweet and genuine. “SANS DECIDED TO GIVE ME A BREAK FROM COOKING AND SAID WE COULD STILL HAVE SPAGHETTI ANYWAY, SO WE CAME HERE!”

“Is spaghetti your favorite?” I feel like I know the answer already, and I’m correct when Papyrus answers.

“YES! IT IS THE ONLY FOOD SUITABLE FOR THE GREAT PAPYRUS!” Papyrus boasts adorably, then looks back to me, a calculating glare passing over his features. “TELL ME, HUMAN. DO YOU LIKE SPAGHETTI?”

“Of course! Anything with pasta is my favorite, but I love spaghetti the most.” It’s the damn truth. Pasta and bread are my two main food groups, occasionally supplemented by chocolate… okay, more than occasionally. Papyrus claps his hands together excitedly.

“PERFECT! YOU’RE MEETING ALL MY FRIEND STANDARDS!”

“You’re definitely meeting all of mine too, Papyrus. Want to be friends?” Honestly, who wouldn’t want to be friends with this adorably emotive skeleton? His grin somehow widens significantly.

“ABSOLUTELY, HUMAN! WE ARE NOW… FRIENDS!” The word seems to somehow glimmer in a way as it comes from him.

“Awesome! I’m sure you guys still want to eat though, right…? Can I get you something to drink or anything? Ketchup, right, Sans?”

“you got it, kiddo.”

“And Papyrus?”

“IF YOU HAVE TEA, THAT WOULD BE EXCELLENT!”

“Of course! Just a second, I’ll be right back.” I turn from the table and head back to the service station to put together a ketchup bottle for Sans and boil some water for Papyrus’s tea. Gauging my emotions, I feel like I can handle this, especially as long as Sans stays distracted by Papyrus. Hopefully he’ll understand now is not the time or place.

Heaving a little sigh, I gather up the drinks and head back to the table, finding Papyrus missing. Shit. I place the hot water and tea bags before his setting and hand over Sans’s ketchup, struggling not to make eye contact for longer than a second.

“hey, uh… i’m sorry. i know you probably, uh, weren’t expecting to see me a third time today. i really had no idea you work here, or i’d have ordered in or something.” Sans takes an unnecessary breath, continuing to try to force eye contact.

“Worked. Today’s my last day.” I correct him, inhaling deeply right along with him before relenting, looking him in the eyes.

“ah, yeah, the doc said something about that… just didn’t mention it was here.”

“It’s okay.” It might as well be. Nothing to be done about it now.

“you, uh… holding up alright?” He lowers his voice to ensure the privacy of the conversation, but it doesn't make me feel like talking about it any more than before.

“Yeah.” I provide that much, because it’s true. I’m not currently panicking, so I guess I am technically ‘holding up alright’.

“look, kid, i’m gonna level with you. we both saw the same thing. and i’m sure you want answers just as much as i do, our questions just differ slightly.” I shift uncomfortably, but continue to listen to him, rubbing my shoulder anxiously. “i know alph told you i’m something of a specialist. i can help ya, kiddo. or i can at least try.”

“I don’t know, Sans…” I trail off, looking over as Papyrus comes out of the restroom, then quickly back to Sans.

"it can be like our own experiment.” He begins, speaking rapidly as he senses his time running short. “you can’t be the only person with a cracked SOUL. i know ya got a bone to pick with me, but let’s figure this out.”

"That’s not true; I don’t have a bone to pick with you…” Papyrus slides back into his seat across from Sans with some difficulty.

"NYEH HEH HEH, EVERYONE HAS A BONE TO PICK WITH SANS IN SOME WAY OR ANOTHER, ISN’T THAT RIGHT, BROTHER?” Chuckling to himself, Papyrus settles his napkin in his lap before deciding on a tea flavor. I scoop up the other flavor into my apron.

“yup, bro.” Sans hawkishly watches Papyrus pour the hot water, for any sign of that affair potentially going wrong. Luckily, it all goes smoothly.

“So, do you guys know what you want or do you need a moment?”

“it’s pastable that we know.” Sans looks to his brother as both Papyrus and I groan loudly at the terrible pun. “paps, you go ahead.”

“I WOULD LIKE THE SPAGHETTI MARINARA, PLEASE, HUMAN.” Papyrus reports after recovering.

“Would you like a salad or anything with it?” I ask gently as I write down the order, even though I know I’ll remember.

“NO THANK YOU, HUMAN! NOTHING ELSE IS WORTHY!” Papyrus hands over his menu, and I turn to Sans.

“i’ll do the same.” Nodding, I scribble Sans order down as well.

“Do you guys want some bread too while you wait?” I ask as I push my book back in my apron.

“THAT SOUNDS DECENT ENOUGH. THANK YOU, HUMAN!” I quickly realize Papyrus will probably never use my actual name, but it doesn’t really bother me. He’s so innocent, I don’t think he means anything by it at all.

“Alright, be right back.” Chuckling lightly, I return to the kitchen to retrieve the bread plate, setting up butter and olive oil as well, unsure of what skeletons typically prefer… Aside from spaghetti and ketchup.

“Hey, do you have friends at 32?” My boss catches me in the back just before I leave, and I wonder if he’s going to ask me to get Papyrus to dial it down a notch.

“I do.”

“You can hang out with them, if you’d like. You’re cut.” He smiles gently, and I nod appreciatively.

“Thank you, sir, but maybe when they’re done eating… I think they’re just enjoying some brother-time.”

“I understand. Well, let me know when you’re going to finally take a seat. We have a little surprise for you.” He heads out the back just after dropping that little thought-bomb, leaving me to wonder. I go ahead and ring in the order, carrying the bread plate over to the table on the way back out.

“So, here’s that bread for you.” I can see Papyrus studying the olive oil mixture, and I can’t stop a giggle from eking out.

“HUMAN! WHAT IS THIS?” He quizzes me, confounded.

“Just olive oil. I sprinkled some Parmesan cheese in there and added a crack of black pepper. That’s all. It’s not as good as spaghetti, but it’s satisfactory.” I explain patiently, smiling. “You should try it!”

“i’m just gonna stick with ketchup. olive this stuff.” I roll my eyes at Sans’s stubbornness, but it seems to convince Papyrus that he should give it a shot, even if just to taunt his brother. Hesitantly, Papyrus picks up a piece and dunks it in the oil, then lifts it to his mouth and takes a bite, contemplating as he chews.

“YOU ARE RIGHT, HUMAN. NOT AS GOOD AS SPAGHETTI, BUT QUITE TASTY NONETHELESS.”

“Good! I’ll let you enjoy it then and I’ll come back to check on you guys.” Letting them have their time, I head back to the service station to wrap up my sidework and wait on their entrees. Over the clattering in the kitchen, I can hear their voices and pieces of their conversation. Papyrus tends to do more of the talking, while Sans seems fairly content to listen and occasionally interject with a pun whenever he deems appropriate. At particularly terrible ones, Papyrus shouts Sans’s name scoldingly, but that doesn’t stop Sans from continuing on his punning rampage. When the heaping plates of spaghetti come out to the window, I make sure they’re correct before carrying them out and settling them before Sans and Papyrus. Sans seems slightly relieved about the sight of the spaghetti for some reason, but I decide not to question it.

“More ketchup or tea?”

“JUST WATER FOR ME, HUMAN, PLEASE.” Papyrus seems to be critically evaluating the spaghetti. I nod, giving a little laugh before looking to Sans.

“nah, it seems my thirst is ketching up to me.” I roll my eyes once more, walking back to grab water for Papyrus. Upon my return, Papyrus has reached his verdict.

“NOT AS GOOD AS MY OWN, BUT I KNOW YOU ARE NOT RESPONSIBLE FOR THAT.”

“It’s pastable that’s because our mere human chefs cannot match up to The Great Papyrus.” Papyrus narrows his eyes slightly at me, but Sans definitely approves, his shoulders shaking with contained laughter.

“A PUN AND A COMPLIMENT AS ONE. YOU ARE A TRICKY ONE.”

“Have to keep you guessing.” I grin back, clapping my hands together. “So it’s all good?”

“INDEED, HUMAN. IF YOU ARE NOT BUSY, PERHAPS YOU MAY JOIN US FOR DESSERT?” Papyrus glances over at Sans who simply shrugs before nodding.

“i dunno, bro. babybones don’t need all that sugar.” Papyrus looks mortified, while Sans just continues smiling in his shit-eating way.

“I DO BELIEVE I AM QUITE OLD ENOUGH FOR DESSERT, EVEN THIS LATE AT NIGHT!” I glance up at the clock, which reads 9:37PM. Late?

“nah, you’re right. we’ll do dessert.” Sans looks back up at me. “if you’re not busy.”

“Nope, I’m basically all done. Let me tell my boss where I’ll be though in case he needs me.” I smile gently, leaving them to finish their meal.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Papyrus was SO fun to write; he's the actual cutest. I tried to think realistically about the dinner, that Sans wouldn't naturally invite somebody right in on time with his brother. The reader is present as a part of it anyway, but Paps will always be his number one. I intend on maintaining that throughout the story.


	10. Pray Tell

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Posting this up right before I have to run away to work, so please let me know if there are any awful errors. I'll be checking as well once I'm off. Enjoy!

After letting my boss know where I’m going to be, he tells me dessert’s on him. I decide to change out of my dirty uniform and back into my significantly-less-dirty-but-still-dirty scrub pants and grey tanktop from this morning. I navigate out of the back and clock out, a finality in my fingers against the screen. Grabbing my bag, I head back over to the booth, bringing my own drink along with me.

 

“So, my boss has dessert covered.” I give my report, sliding into Sans’s side of the booth since Papyrus’s wide frame essentially makes sitting next to him impossible.

 

“well, that’s very cool of him.”

 

“Sans, you don’t even know if it’s going to be a cold or hot dessert… pun with care, jeez.” I elbow him lightly, knowing better than to do so hard and end up hurting myself since he’s made of all bone. Sans continues to smile, shrugging.

 

“DO YOU KNOW WHAT IT WILL BE?” Papyrus leans in curiously as I tuck my bag under the table. I shake my head in response.

 

“I don’t. But I know it’ll involve chocolate.” I can hardly stop the drool coming on at just the thought. Just what I need.

 

“you, uh… look like you love chocolate about as much as paps loves spaghetti.” Sans chuckles lightly beside me.

 

“It’s not even a possibility. That’s a definite; I won’t deny it.” I’m shameless, flipping my ponytail over my shoulder

 

“NYEH, ARE YOU SURE ABOUT THAT, HUMAN?!” Papyrus narrows his eyes at me, daring me to answer.

 

“You bet.” If eyes could catch aflame, Papyrus’s would in this moment.  
  
“PERFECT, WE WILL SIMPLY HAVE TO COMPETE TO DETERMINE WHO HAS THE GREATER LOVE FOR THEIR RESPECTIVE FOOD.”

 

“Any time, Papyrus. Just let me know.” Grinning, I unravel a roll of silverware in preparation for the dessert to come. Within that minute, my boss arrives with the biggest cannoli I’ve ever seen, and my jaw simply falls wide open.

 

“i dunno, paps. you never look like you’ve fallen for your spaghetti. it’s pastable that she might have you beat.” Sans snickers as my manager deposits the treat on the table in front of us.

 

“NYEEEEEEH. I WILL NOT BE BEATEN! HOWEVER, THIS WILL HAVE TO BE RESOLVED AT ANOTHER DATE, AS THIS LOOKS FAIRLY DELICIOUS.” Papyrus leans over the cannoli to examine it before looking to me and asking. “WHAT IS THIS, HUMAN?”

 

“Ah, you like the looks of this huh?” Waggling my eyebrows teasingly, I scoop up my spoon and take it carefully to the side of the cannoli closest to me. Papyrus looks indignant, abruptly folding his arms over his chest. I laugh, immediately relenting. “It’s a cannoli. So this is just a sweet hard shell, but the inside is sweetened ricotta cheese… we fold chocolate chips into it and slap some melted dark chocolate and confectioner’s sugar on top.” I crack the shell and immediately dip into the bite, bringing shell and all neatly on over and devouring it. “Oh God…” I lean back in the booth, sighing contentedly.

 

“HM… I DO NOT KNOW, BROTHER, IS THE HUMAN WELL AFTER INGESTING THAT?”

 

“she looks like she’s _more_ than well.” Sans simply laughs, leveling a spoon to the same side I’m eating off of. “be brave, paps, just give it a shot.”

 

“FINE.” Papyrus concedes defeat sharply, cracking into the other side of the dessert. Both brothers look across the table at each other as they take their bites simultaneously. Sans appears to melt into a puddle of bone and clothing, while Papyrus goes bug-eyed, immediately alert.   
  
“OH MY GOD!”

 

“i know, paps. it’s so good.”

 

“NO. THIS ISN’T NEARLY AS GOOD AS SPAGHETTI.” Sans rolls his eyes slightly at his brother’s ruse, while I nearly choke on my next bite, definitely not expecting it. “NYEH HEH HEH. I FOOLED YOU BOTH.”

 

“Suit yourself, Papyrus. More for us.” When I recover, I take the edge of the plate, beginning to tug it over towards Sans and me.

 

“WAIT.” Papyrus hesitates at that, reaching over quickly and snagging a bite, so I resolve to leave it where it is in the middle with a little laugh.   
  
“you sure you’re joking with us, paps, or are you telling a fibula?” Sans winks at Papyrus, only getting a groan in return.

 

“SANS. I WOULD NEVER.” Incensed, Papyrus poses regally, and honestly I’d believe him based on that stance if he wasn’t such a bad liar.

 

“Just come to terms with your true feelings, Papyrus. It’s better if you do.” I accentuate my advice with yet another bite, to which Papyrus cringes.

 

“NO. SPAGHETTI IS STILL BEST.”

 

“so stubborn.” Sans takes a particularly large bite, causing Papyrus to lean in once more so as not to miss out on the remaining goodies. It doesn’t take us any longer than a few moments to dismantle the cannoli, barely leaving a trace on the plate. Afterwards, Sans turns to me. “got the ticket, kiddo?”

 

“Nope. I took care of it.” His eyes seem to short out slightly, though I quickly remind him of our impending trip to Grillby’s. “You just have to pick up next time. Besides, I had to take advantage of my employee discount one last time.” I smile sweetly, effectively winning the brief disagreement.

 

“you got it, kiddo.” Sans looks across the table to Papyrus. “ready to go home, bro?”

 

“YES BROTHER.” In spite of clearly appearing quite sleepy, Papyrus’s voice never leaves a 10. “WELL, HUMAN, IT WAS NICE TO MEET YOU. MAYBE YOU COULD COME OVER AND TRY SOME REAL SPAGHETTI NEXT TIME?” Papyrus gingerly extricates himself from the booth, attempting not to turn over everything possible.

 

“Definitely, Papyrus. Let me know when’s good! I wouldn’t miss it for the world.” I can’t help but grin at the thought of someone as unwieldy as Papyrus navigating a kitchen.

 

“I WILL CALL YOU! GOOD NIGHT, ____.” Suddenly, my legs are dangling in the air and my lungs are aching for air as Papyrus sweeps me into a bone-crushing embrace, his cheekbone pressed into my own through the skin. He settles me back on my feet after a moment, and I clutch at my chest briefly.

 

“A-Awesome! Night, Papyrus.”

 

“you gonna be okay getting home?” Sans asks as he slides from the booth as well, stuffing his hands in his hoodie pocket.

 

“I will. It’ll be quick. I brought my bike.” I nod, then add on. “I’ll text you when I get in.” Sans seems to find that agreeable, relaxing slightly.

 

“sounds good, kiddo. see ya around.” Sans raises his hand in a brief goodbye, then leaves with Papyrus at his side, supporting the larger skeleton as sleep starts to set in on him.

 

I gather my bag out from under the booth and take the dishes back, leaving only wiping and resetting the table to the busser. After saying my goodbyes and thanking my boss one last time, I set off on my bike for home. The ride is significantly more difficult than this morning, almost all uphill. As I cross into campus however, the path smoothes out quite a bit, and I’m able to coast for a little. Enjoying circumnavigating the older buildings and lush landscaping, a small smile alights on my face for a moment.

 

As I round a corner and pass between two buildings, the streetlamp above me abruptly flickers out. I slow, looking up to the end of the rather open alleyway and seeing the nearest streetlamp there also bite the dust. Skidding to a stop, I put my feet down and contemplate backing out of the pathway. Anxiety prickles at the back of my skull, both at my own stupidity for bothering to stop and at the potential danger lying just beyond the broken lamps. Squinting into the dark, I look for any sign of another person, but all I can see is shadows of the shrubbery lining the path. A brush of wind passes by, and the shadows shift, vines looking much like tentacular appendages reaching from the blackness…

 

My phone buzzing once through my pocket snaps me out of my daze. I feel for the device against me before deciding it’s better to be safe than sorry, backing out of the alley and following a different path the rest of the way home. Once inside, I quickly lock my door behind me, taking a deep breath and settling down on the floor to read my message.

 

 

_Sans (11:14PM)_

_knock knock._

 

Sans’s way of letting me know I’m beginning to worry him. I quickly type up my response.

 

 

_xxx-xxx-xxxx (11:25PM)_

_Who’s there?_

_Sans (11:25PM)_

_ben._

_xxx-xxx-xxxx (11:26PM)_

_Ben who?_

_Sans (11:27PM)_

_ben waiting 10 minutes for you to text me back. you okay?_

_xxx-xxx-xxxx (11:27PM)_

_I’m okay! Just got in. Sorry, I decided to take a different way home._

Finding my feet once more, I decide to make my way to the shower so I can wash off all the restaurant grime for the final time. I snag a pair of PJs from my dresser, taking my phone with me. Flipping on some relaxing music in the bathroom, I turn the water on and wait patiently for the heat to kick in, checking my phone again as I do so.

 

 

_Sans (11:28PM)_

_on purpose?_

_xxx-xxx-xxxx (11:29PM)_

_Of course._

_-brb._

I stand to stick my hand in the water once more, finding it suitable and undressing, stepping inside. Unfortunately, the dorm shower doesn’t seem to have a lot of hot water available tonight, so I try to make my shower quick, never knowing when it’ll run out. It doesn’t give me a lot of time to think, though I do ruminate on how much I miss my old apartment’s shower. Thankfully, the water gives out just as I’m on my last leg, literally. I finish shaving as quickly as possible without goring myself, hopping out before I get too cold. I turn the water off, wrapping myself up in a towel and drying off my hair as much as possible.

 

 

_Sans (11:30PM)_

_okay._

_-did you think about what I said earlier?_

_xxx-xxx-xxxx (11:47PM)_

_If I agree, does that mean I have to listen to more of your puns?_

Settling my phone down with a smile, I put myself to the task of untangling my hair. Accentuated with sharp bursts of pain as I refuse to take it easy on my unruly mop, I contemplate Sans’s offer.

 

 

_Sans (11:48PM)_

_yes._

_xxx-xxx-xxxx (11:50PM)_

_You have to be honest with me if I agree._

_Sans (11:50PM)_

_have i been anything but?_

He had a point. Private and cautious perhaps, but upfront when I’d gathered the gall to ask him anything. Finishing with my hair before answering, I pull on my PJs and hang up my towel again before answering and beginning to tend to my nightly before-bed routine.

 

 

_xxx-xxx-xxxx (11:53PM)_

_No._

_-So you’ll answer truthfully if I ask you a question right now?_

_Sans (11:54PM)_

_remember, i’m not one for fibulas, kid._

_xxx-xxx-xxxx (11:54PM)_

_You overuse that pun._

_-Could you tell I had cracks when you first saw me?_

_Sans (11:55PM)_

_it’s very humerus though._

_-and not exactly. you felt slightly off, but i couldn’t feel the extent._

_xxx-xxx-xxxx (11:56PM)_

_Why didn’t you tell me not to go through with the test then? I probably could have dealt with not knowing._

_Sans (11:57PM)_

_because your SOUL’s traits are integrity and perseverance. equally._

_-i knew you could take it._

Musing over that observation, I wonder whether or not to be irritated that he would assume that about me, or to take it as a compliment. Carrying my phone and my dirty clothes out of the bathroom, I dump the clothes into my hamper and flip on the TV for background noise as I make my way to my bed, flopping down onto it, exhausted.

 

 

_xxx-xxx-xxxx (11:59PM)_

_Thanks, I guess…_

_-So I guess that means there are no new forms of the SOUL? In your opinion?_

_Sans (12:00AM)_

_i meant it in a good way._

_-kind of. new expressions of traits, to us. that we haven’t recorded yet. just that humans are just as imperfect as monsters and don’t have to settle on one dominant trait._

_\--but that’s okay too._

_\---being imperfect is kinda nice. no voids to fill._

_xxx-xxx-xxxx (12:02AM)_

_When you put it that way, yeah._

 

Rolling over and yawning, I plug my phone into its charger and curl up in my blanket nest, having failed to wash my sheets today. Tomorrow, I resolve. I close my eyes, but my phone decides to buzz once again a few minutes later, so I scoop it up again.

 

_Sans (12:05AM)_

_so you’ll let me try to help you?_

I’m tired, but I can tell he’s going to keep pressing for an answer until I commit.

 

 

_xxx-xxx-xxxx (12:06AM)_

_Yeah. I’ll need some specifics about how you’re going to try to do that. But we can talk about that tomorrow._

_-Why’re you so keyed in on helping me though?_

 

My phone goes silent long enough for sleep to take its hold of me, dragging me down to the deep before Sans can reply.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Seems like we've reached the end of the first arc! Shit should start to heat up quite a bit now. Heh. Obviously, I was having some cannoli-craving during this chapter, so forgive me for that lmao. 
> 
> Thank you for reading!


	11. Harbinger

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TORIEL AND FRISK HEEEEEEEY please let me know if I mess up any of Frisk's pronouns. They're gender-neutral and I want to keep it that way, but this is the first time I've written a gender-neutral character. 
> 
> This chapter is a harbinger of things to come: PAIN AND AGONY, also relationships, AND THINGS NOT GOING ACCORDING TO PLAN. 
> 
> Enjoy!

_Sans (12:46AM)_

_you’re not the first person i’ve helped when it comes to matters of the SOUL. let’s just say i want this time to work better than the last._

_xxx-xxx-xxxx (7:39AM)_

_Will you tell me about that time?_

_Sans (7:59AM)_

_when you’re older._

_xxx-xxx-xxxx (8:00AM)_

_fjdlasjfkdsal WOW. Rude._

_-technically though, I’m a minute older._

_\--see you for Frisk’s appointment._

Sans falls silent on the other end, and I assume he’s busying himself before his next round in the ring. Waiting on Alphys to arrive at the lab, I examine her handiwork from yesterday, familiarizing myself with the new equipment she’d installed. She seems to have added more reference points for gathering data, and has honed the “fangs” to cradle the SOUL a little better than before, so that Sans’s interference isn’t required if a subject vacillates on us.

 

“S-so sorry I-I-I’m running late!” Alphys bursts through the door about five minutes after I arrive, and I jump a little in my seat before relaxing when I see it’s just her.

 

“No, Alphys! You’re good! I’m not Abernathy; you don’t have to be right on time. Shit, you’re MY boss in a way.” I give her a reassuring smile, which seems to help her relax.

 

“R-right, right… w-well, I have your r-results in!” She’s all business at the moment, carrying over a large stack of papers to the desk before me.

 

“Great! What’s your verdict?” Stay positive. I look up at her expectantly, even though Sans has already given me his professional opinion, as she grabs the file off the top, opening it up and clearing her throat.

 

“A-ahem… y-you have two dominant t-traits, which is s-something I’ve n-never seen before. H-However, on thinking a-about it, th-that may v-very well be the case w-with m-most humans… Th-the children wh-who fell were p-perhaps full of pure c-curiosity. Pure i-in all senses of th-the word.” Alphys explains her theory, sitting down in the spinny-chair across from me as she reads from her notes. “A-anyway, y-your traits a-are integrity a-and perseverance… wh-which make a perfect indigo w-when combined, it seems.”

 

“How’d the personality survey match up?” I ask of the half of the project I spent the most time on: creating questions that appropriately evaluated one’s traits without guiding people to select certain answers based on what they wanted their personality to look like.

 

“V-very well, b-but w-we’ll really need to see w-with someone wh-who doesn’t have prior knowledge o-of the questions.” I smile a little sheepishly at that, nodding.

 

“We’ll have a chance to do that with Frisk today.” Alphys agrees with a cheeky little grin.

 

“W-we should.”

 

“Will Undyne be coming back to help today?”

 

“N-not to help, n-no. Sh-she said she may f-for l-lunch though.” Blushing lightly, she sighs a little dreamily.

 

“That sounds nice… I can leave you guys be, if you want. Sans wanted to go over some stuff a little more in depth with me about the SOUL.” It’s not quite a lie. However, Alphys goes wide-eyed at my words, covering her mouth.

 

“O-oh my god, y-you what?!” My expression remains confused for a moment until I realize what she’s thinking, shaking my head rapidly.

 

“Nononononono! No!” I brace my hands up, waving them frantically and flushing at the thought.

 

“YES! LOOK Y-YOU’RE EVEN BLUSHING O-OH MY G-GOD!” Alphys cackles maniacally, sounding more like her girlfriend in this instance.

 

“Just because you’re suggesting it! Really, Alphys, we’re just friends! It’s just another aspect of the project he thinks could be useful!” Alphys chokes at that sentence and I’m backpedaling once more. “NO NOT LIKE THAT!”

 

“But it c-could be u-useful.” Alphys winks.

 

“Yeah, but no. Jesus, not for science, that’s fucking mean…” I scrunch up my face at her suggestion. “No.”

 

“O-okay, yeah, that w-was. B-But s-still! H-he took to you p-pretty quickly!” All of a sudden, Alphys is as gushy and gossipy as I’ve ever seen, and I’m genuinely surprised.

 

“That doesn’t mean anything though! I took to you pretty quickly too!” I give her a look. “Are we really on the clock talking about this?”

 

“Um, y-yes! Th-this is important!” Her insistence draws a little laugh out of me, and I shake my head.

 

“Alphys, really! We’re just friends.”

 

“That’s how i-it starts.” Her grin turns crazed and she rubs her hands together. “I-I will p-plant the seed.”

 

“Oh my god, please don’t.” I bury my face in my hands, groaning.

 

“D-do you guys t-text or h-hang out?” She pulls my wrists down so she can see my eyes, nose in my face.

 

“We text sometimes… and we went to Waffle House, like, ONCE.” Her mouth falls open, a squeal of delight pealing out.

 

“N-no!”

 

“Yes, really… Alphys, when are we going to do samples of monsters? I’ve got several people lined up who want to come in.” I try my best to redirect her, which halfway works.

 

“Y-you have to s-start giving me d-details a-about these th-things! And f-for organization’s s-sake, I’d prefer w-waiting u-until after finishing th-the humans. I-it’ll be easier to do o-one a-at a time t-to prevent things f-from getting m-mixed up.”

 

“What things?! Alphys, nothing’s _happening_ …!”

 

“Yet.” Alphys raises her eyebrows at me suggestively, grinning.

 

“Please don’t.” I’m practically begging her at this point, and she finally yields.

 

“A-alright, alright… I won’t.” She raises her hands innocently before folding them in her lap. “As long as you s-swear th-that if s-something DOES s-start to happen, y-you’ll text me a-all the details.”

 

“Why? Aren’t you already in a happy, loving, perfect relationship?”

 

“Y-yes. B-but that doesn’t m-mean I can’t revel in s-someone else’s too!”   


“Alphys! God!” I pull my folder off the top of the stack of papers she’d brought, making one last attempt to change the topic. “What are the rest of these?”

 

“Th-they’re packets of the questionnaires… C-could you p-put them together in f-folders? It w-would make the p-process a lot easier.” Alphys seems to calm, and I think I may be in the clear.

 

“Sure! Not a problem! What are you going to do?”

 

“I have a-a few m-more adjustments to m-make. Frisk sh-should be here w-with Toriel a-at 9:30. Sh-she doesn’t w-want them missing t-too much s-school though, so w-we’ll n-need to get them in a-and out pretty quickly.” I want to ask her if she’s talked to Sans about the time of the appointment, to remind her to do it if she hasn’t, but don’t want to risk going back on the tangent we’d adopted.

 

“Should I refer to them in any special way…? I know she was Queen and they’re ambassador now.” I decide to stick to my guns, figuring Sans could teleport in at a moment’s notice anyway.

 

“N-no. J-just T-Toriel and Frisk.”

 

“Perfect… I’ll go ahead and get to work on these, okay?” I carefully disengage myself from the conversation, hoping to stay in the clear.

 

“G-great. Sh-shouldn’t be too long.” Perfect. Alphys heads on over to the computers, working with some of the programs. I begin my own work, constructing blank files for the numerous subjects that may be arriving soon. As the clock nears 9:30AM, I pull out one of the files to the side for Frisk before continuing my work.

 

At exactly 9:29AM, not a moment before their presence is required and not a second late, a large matronly goat-monster enters the room, accompanied by a lanky human teen. I immediately recognize them from their appearances in the news, though neither have been in it in the past year. While Toriel seems to be just as regal as ever, unchanged in five years, Frisk has entered puberty, the poor child. Their shaggy brown hair remains the same as it was when they were first shown exiting the Underground, though they’d very clearly gained some height, and a couple pimples. Nothing too terrible, and I feel a little pang of relief for them. They’d been through enough without having to do serious battle with acne. They could use a break there, at least.

 

Frisk gives a mute but very excited expression, rushing over to Alphys and hugging her tightly, fingers becoming a blur when they release her. Alphys begins to engage Frisk, though I’m unable to observe for any longer as Toriel makes her way straight to me.

 

“Greetings, child. My name is Toriel. You must be ____.” Baffled that the (ex)queen of the monsters appears to know my name, I gape briefly before finding my head.

 

“Y-yes, ma’am. It’s very nice to meet you.” I extend my hand in greeting, unsure of if I’m behaving correctly. Toriel smiles gently, taking my hand and giving it a precise shake before releasing.

 

“It is a pleasure to meet you as well. Sans has told me of your plan, and I believe it is a unique opportunity to exhibit how alike we all are as a species.” While I certainly share her sentiments, my veins ice over at the mention of Sans. He talks to her?

 

Why do I even care? Just an hour before, I was arguing with Alphys about absolutely, definitely not liking him. Then, I realize she’s planted her so-called seed in _my_ mind, which had probably been her intention all along. But at the same time, the soil has to be fertile for the seed to take, which means…

 

Fuck, not now. It’s been a little over a week. No.

 

He’s likely smitten with this beautiful, intelligent lady. No interest in the splinters of a tattered muddled SOUL.

 

Not the time for that, either. I check myself before I can spiral too far into self-admonition.

 

“Thank you! That’s what I hope to achieve with the study, with Dr. Alphys’s help as well.” I pipe with a little spirit, causing Alphys to look my direction and grin. I shoot her a glare, to which she develops a shocked expression. Toriel carries on as if she doesn’t see the exchange.

 

“I am confident that the both of you will be able to achieve the results you’re looking for. Is there anything you require of me?”

 

"Well, when we progress to the next phase of the study, we’ll be testing monsters. If it would be alright with you, we’d love to have you come back.”

 

“I would be happy to.” Toriel smiles kindly, then holds a hand to her mouth and giggles. Someone pokes me on my right shoulder, and I turn to see who it is, finding no one there. I whip around the other way, finding Frisk noiselessly whistling, rolling their ankle innocently.

 

“Oh, I wonder who that could be.” Smirking, I look around in wonder, as if completely bewildered. Frisk then approaches, giggling soundlessly and shaking their head, waving. “Hi, Frisk. I’m _____.” I grin back, extending my hand and shaking theirs. Frisk begins to sign a little slowly, and Toriel translates for me.

 

“They are inquiring if you know ASL.” I shake my head.

 

“Unfortunately no… I know the alphabet, but that’s about it.” I respond, signing the letters of my name with careful thought, an elementary school exercise. Even that much brings a huge smile to Frisk’s face, and they begin signing more rapidly once more.

 

“They want to know if you would like to learn.” Toriel giggles, then elaborates. “I will be teaching sign language here at the university beginning in the fall semester; Frisk has been advertising for me lately.”

 

“I’d love to! But I’m not enrolled anymore… if you wouldn’t mind, I could sit in on occasion.” The thought of someone as motherly as Toriel wrangling college students is somewhat amusing, and would be an added bonus.

 

“Of course, child. You would be most welcome.” Toriel’s gaze then flicks to the door, and Frisk takes off in a blur for the person coming in. Sans is instantly almost tackled to the floor by Frisk, chuckling and hugging them tightly back.

 

“heya kiddo! it’s good to see you too!” Sans begins watching Frisk’s hands, replying quietly in sign language as well. Toriel goes to greet him, leaving me with Alphys.

 

“W-what was that l-look for?” Alphys asks anxiously, quiet as she comes to my side.

 

“Are _they_ not a thing?” I murmur quietly, giving her a reproachful look.

 

“N-no! W-wait are you th-thinking about it? O-oh my G-God…” Alphys covers her mouth, then grabs my arm, almost dragging me over to the machine so we can appear to be speaking about the experiment as opposed to our actual topic of conversation. I look over my shoulder, watching Sans and Toriel interact. They’re certainly friendly, hugging and falling into discussion themselves, exchanging a few bad puns and laughing about it...

 

“Well, look at them, Alphys…” I hedge quietly, then look back to her for an explanation.

 

“N-no, no… They t-tried. D-don’t get me w-wrong, th-they do h-have chemistry, b-but it just… faded. Toriel w-wanted to focus m-more on F-Frisk, and didn’t q-quite s-seem to understand h-him at times. H-he does behave i-irrationally sometimes, and sh-she’s more one for a-action. S-She’s always d-doing something. R-Rarely sleeping the d-day away, especially n-now. Th-they ended on g-good terms.” Something begins to fester in my chest, and I’m not so sure I want to name it. It feels familiar, and that scares me. Hope.

 

Fuck.

 

Alphys gives me a terrifying grin and I do my best to dull my expression.

 

“Oh, okay. I mean, it’s no big deal.” The grin remains, and I’m forced to growl. “No, Alphys. I don’t know a damn thing about him.”

 

“Y-yes you do. M-more than y-you let on.” I promptly roll my eyes.

 

“Maybe I do, but I’d prefer learning more before just going ‘hey Sans, so I somehow find you terribly attractive’.”

 

“M-mention the bone zone.” Alphys doubles over, laughing so hard that she almost falls over, and I’m forced to catch her, causing the others to turn and look at us. Frisk signs something with a mischievous little smirk, and Alphys’s mouth falls open. “W-WE ARE NOT W-WEEBS!” She shouts back in response, and I have to laugh at that one.

 

“We’d be denying our t-true selves, Alphys! A-although, it takes one to know one.” I shoot Frisk a calculating look, which they return with a small embarrassed grin. “YOU ARE!” Frisk laughs soundlessly, shrugging helplessly.

 

“I do not mean to press, but Frisk has an English exam later on today… I’d like to have them back in time so they do not miss too much.” Alphys and I immediately straighten up at Toriel’s voice.

 

“Yes, ma’am. C’mon Frisk, I’ll get you set up.” I motion for Frisk to follow me to the machine as Alphys scrambles to get all the programs pulled up. They do, nudging me and holding out their phone to show me a blank “new contact” screen. “Definitely. I have to keep this aside for the test though, the phone will interfere with the equipment.” Frisk nods their understanding, and I smile back, taking their phone and entering in my information, giving them a thumbs-up before settling it on the spare table. “Okay, all you have to do is stand here. I’m sure you’ve dealt plenty with your SOUL though, so you probably know way more than me.” Frisk dusts invisible dirt off their shoulders, grinning as they step inside the maw of the machine and turn to face the room. “I figured.”

 

“you ready, kiddo?” Sans approaches us with his hands in his pockets, smiling as he almost always is. Frisk responds quickly, nodding eagerly to supplement their communication, for my benefit. “heh, yep. just like old times…” Sans trails, his smile shifting almost imperceptibly. Noticing, Frisk flies into another flurry of signs, seeming to be apologizing. “naw, frisk. i’m good as long as you are.” He reaches up, ruffling up Frisk’s hair. They fold their arms over their chest, giving Sans a small glare, to which he can only chuckle.

 

“____, c-can you h-hold the camera th-this time?” Alphys calls me over to take my place for the run. I oblige, heading over.

 

“Probably not as well as Undyne, but I’ll do my best.” I smile a little, taking the camera from her and beginning to record, letting her tape the red light on the front shut. Toriel moves away to take a place near me, sitting gracefully in a spare chair. Alphys makes her rounds of the lights, and once again the lab is filled with a heavy darkness.

 

I lean forward, holding the camera as steadily as I can. I’m morbidly eager to see what this looks like from the other side. The same sort of uneasy static fills the air, tingling at my skin; and though I’m positioned on Sans’s right side, the camera still captures the bright blue glow from his left eye lapping at his grim smile. Frisk, illuminated in that wraithlike radiance, stands stock-still in Sans’s half-gaze, hands clenched into fists at their sides. Sans is able to draw their SOUL from their chest with hardly any resistance, not even touching their chest when the heart shape slips from Frisk’s body, a powerful light beneath Sans’s own mixing and mingling with his aqua-colored magic. Sans releases the SOUL almost immediately when it’s fully out, crimson light instantly bathing the room in an almost distinctive heat. Squinting into the luminescence, I bear witness to Frisk’s dexterity, willing their SOUL effortlessly into place. From this distance, I can hear the whirring of the machinery as it immediately begins to gather data, the computers humming as they translate that data into readable forms.

 

Abruptly, Sans steps back, covering his left eye and rushing away from the machine as light blue light begins to seep between his phalanges, wheezing as he struggles to take in air. I identify a strangled cry of dismay as Alphys’s, settling the camera down a little more roughly than I initially intend and moving as quickly as I can to his side.

 

“Sans, what’s wrong?” Murmuring cautiously, I position my body to prevent light from passing, bending down to his side as he presses the left half of his face against the wall wordlessly. Seconds later, the reddish hue fades from the room, leaving just a few frail flickers of electric blue here, as far away from the sensitive machinery as possible. A deathly silence saturates the air as the blackness settles thickly around us.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alphys is a little sHIT. I'm sorry, I've seen her as something of a matchmaker since she mentioned she'd write Asgore/Toriel fanfiction. I imagine her as someone who'd be really good at matching other people up, but completely oblivious to her own potential with Undyne until it happens. Which in this story, it's already happened, so she just goes about matchmaking the hell out of everyone. 
> 
> You can find me on tumblah if you want: onthewingsoficarus.tumblr.com  
> Thank you so much for reading!


	12. Eyesore

“Sans…” Whispering his name, I carefully reach over and touch his shoulder. The instant my fingers alight on the fabric of his hoodie, my heart feels like it crashes to the floor, bringing my body with it as a choked gasp escapes my lips. “F-fuck!” A surge of neon blue light floods my eyes, and I can just barely lift my head to see Sans spin around to address another threat…

 

that isn’t there.

 

I attempt to push myself to my feet, finding myself completely unable to move. At my challenge, gravity proceeds to push me down harder into the floor, the tension increasing by the second. A low murmur of panic roils in my belly, rising quickly to my chest, and I squeeze my eyes shut, trying desperately to make myself breathe, convince myself I won’t be crushed against the tile floor, please, god, no.

 

Over the din of my own blood rushing in my ears, I can hear Alphys and Toriel speaking loudly, though what they’re saying I can’t be sure of. A large hand spreads over my back, and I can vaguely see Toriel’s purple maxi-dress at the edge of my view. The magical energy stabilizes but I still can’t breathe.

 

Suddenly, all the pressure dissipates, the overhead lights blinking on. In spite of that I’m allowed to move again, I can’t bring myself to out of fear; I’m completely frozen. I can see Sans’s shoes start to shift, hear his breathing go ragged.

 

“k-kid, i… ____, f-fuck no.”

 

“Sans, stay back…” Toriel’s voice comes out as a steely warning above me. Was she trying to protect me? I finally manage to move, bringing my arms over my head as emotion abruptly gushes through me, a wracking sob rolling up my back as I struggle to choke it down.

 

“i-i didn’t mean it, t-tori, I j-just got l-lost...” Sans trails off, his voice hitching in his throat. “tori, you know i wouldn’t!”

 

“It appears as if you would, Sans.” Toriel remains firm. “You threatened my child and actually harmed this one.”

 

“I’m f-fine…” I try to protest; I’m an adult. I can hold my own. I’m not hurt. I rub my sleeve across my face before trying to at least get off the floor, pain surging from the center of my chest. Wincing, I grasp at the stinging against my skin, though I’ve managed to at least get to my knees.

 

“i didn’t m-mean, i-i was trying to--.”

 

“To what, Sans? There was nothing here!” Toriel’s voice begins to raise, and I shirk slightly, rocking back to force myself into a vertical position at least. I meet Sans’s eyes for a split second, his expression incredibly strained, sweat beading all over his skull as light blue tears form at the edges of his eyesockets. My own fear response forces my eyes down, away.

 

“Toriel, I-I really d-don’t th-think—“ Alphys starts to speak, but Toriel cuts her off deftly, standing now that I’m holding my own.

 

“It does not matter. We left the Underground five years ago, and we all lost something, but I will _not lose another child._ ” I glance back over my shoulder, finding Frisk signing rapidly, indignant. They’re shaking their head, face scrunched up in an expression that can only be interpreted as determination. I recognize one sign they’re using: “friend”, indicating Sans. Frisk comes to Toriel’s side, yanking her arm to make her look at them, repeating the same signs, knowing they weren’t heard. Toriel shakes her head fiercely, beginning to silently argue with Frisk.

 

Alphys steps behind me, resting a clawed hand on my shoulder and asking quietly, “Y-you okay?”

 

“Yeah.” I whisper hoarsely, my voice completely shot. At that affirmation, Sans glances up hopefully, moving cautiously towards me. In spite of my steadily dimming senses, a small shot of adrenaline passes through me, and I react poorly, jerking my entire body back. “N-no.” I blurt out instinctively, kneejerk. I’ve effectively cut him to the bone; he instantly draws back. “J-just not yet…” He’s not a threat. He didn’t mean it.

 

Isn’t that what people say about their abusers? My mind vacations to a psychopathology class back in my junior year of undergrad.

 

No. He legitimately didn’t mean to. His reactions are completely genuine. He’s devastated. Every other interaction leading up to this point has been nothing but positive. He was not himself.

 

Empathy. I remember the look in his eyes, the way he instantly recognized my paroxysm. The rot inside me. My gaze flies back to him.

 

“i-i’m so sorry…” Sans resembles a broken toy, limply sitting against the wall, eyes dark.

 

"It's okay, S-Sans. Really…” I smile weakly for him, willing him to recall the traits he’d named for me. Integrity and perseverance. I’m not lying. I can handle this.

 

“L-let me see.” Wincing, Alphys kneels next to me. I protest briefly, keeping my hand up protectively over my chest and glancing over at Sans, who’s suddenly paying very close attention again. His body’s drawn taut as a bowstring, completely rigid as the tiny pinpricks of his eyes dim significantly. Pained enough. I don’t think he needs to see the damage.

 

“Later, Alphys… p-please.” She looks up, seeing where my gaze has gone and moving to block Sans’s view. At that, I allow my hand to drop, peering down as well. Little indigo splotches blossom against my skin where blood vessels have burst, the wound spreading slightly, sickeningly, with each breath. My color. It’s supposed to look good on me. I grimace wryly to myself, looking up to Alphys. She’s horrified, her mouth hanging open.

 

“I-I h-have to report th-this.” The instant the words leave her mouth, I lurch forward.

 

“N-no! Alphys, it wasn’t a big deal, I-I’m fine! Please!” I look to Sans for some kind of support, but he appears to have taken on new life.

 

“no. she’s right. i’ll do it.”

 

“No!” I croak out, reaching out feebly to keep him from leaving. It works; for an instant he’s locked in place, bright-eyed, grin stretching his skull weakly.

 

“sorry, kiddo… guess the pressure got to me.” The instant the pun about what he’d done slips, he looks mortified with himself. Shutting his eyes painfully, he disappears in a flash of electric light. Covering my face, I muffle several curses into my hands, hot tears bubbling forth immediately in his absence.

 

“T-Toriel, can y-you see if there’s anything y-you can do about ____’s chest?” Alphys murmurs softly over me, and Toriel is at my side no more than a second later, as if drawn in by my agony.

 

"How bad is it...?" Inquiring gently, Toriel leans in to examine the growing wound for herself, tutting lightly when she gets a look. “I can certainly stop the spread…” She looks to me for my permission. A part of me wants to just deal with the pain to spite her, but I rein myself in. She’s equally overprotective as Alphys described Sans, it seems. I oblige her with a nod as I wipe at my eyes, snuffling miserably. Toriel appears to brace herself, placing her large paw against the bruise very carefully as a green light flares up. I catch a hint of flame-like tendrils in the magic as she pulls her hand away slightly to check on its progress after a few moments. Satisfied, she removes her paw, leaving me marked, but better than where I’d been.

 

“Thank you.” I mumble as I examine her work before readjusting my shirt.

 

“Of course. I apologize I could not do more; I have been out of practice for quite some time.” She explains a little quickly, looking away from me and around. “Frisk?”

 

The child comes forth, bearing a gift in the form of their completed file, handing it to Alphys. They give her a tiny smile, signing their goodbye to Alphys before approaching me.

 

“Are you okay…?” According to Toriel, Sans threatened them, and though I couldn’t see what exactly he did, I imagine that’s the source of their subdued distress.

 

Frisk nods, then taps their jeans pocket, where I can see they’ve put their phone. I feel a buzz in my own pocket and immediately understand: “I’ll text you.”

 

“Alright. Do good at school.” I force a rather unhappy smile, and Frisk nods once more, rolling their eyes before going to their mother’s side.

 

"I am truly sorry, this likely puts a very big damper on the project.” Toriel, ever-graceful, apologizes once more for something that isn’t her fault.

 

“W-we’ll make do. I-I think I can m-make an extractor…” Alphys trails a little uncertainly.

 

“I am sure you will be able to, Alphys, especially with help from ____... Well, be good, the both of you.” Smiling kindly, Toriel takes her leave on that note with Frisk in tow.

 

Sighing heavily, I draw my phone out of my pocket, finding the screen cracked, but two text notifications present. I swipe right with some difficulty, reading.

 

 

_Dr. Abernathy (10:05AM)_

_____, please report to my office as soon as possible. Thank you._

_xxx-xxx-xxxx (10:10AM)_

_Yes, sir._

“Dr. Abernathy wants me.” I report to Alphys grimly before reading the next message.

 

 

_???-???-???? (10:09AM)_

_Howdy, ____, this is Frisk._

_-Look, I know Sans probably scared you really badly there, but I promise he’s not a bad person. My mom likes to overreact when it comes to possibly dangerous situations, but he didn't threaten me. He wasn’t even looking at me, really._

_\--Honestly, I think he was trying to protect you._

_xxx-xxx-xxxx (10:13AM)_

_Why? If there was nothing to protect me from?_

_Frisk (10:14AM)_

_It’s not really my place to say…_

_-sorry._

_\--I guess what I’m trying to say is “stay determined”._

_xxx-xxx-xxxx (10:16AM)_

_I would, red, but I’m indigo._

_Frisk (10:16AM)_

_I know. Sans told me. ;)_

_xxx-xxx-xxxx (10:17AM)_

_Jfc. Why the winky face._

_Frisk (10:17AM)_

_They don’t call me Frisk for nothin._

_-Frisky af ;p_

_\--alright I gotta go. Srsly tho. Stay determined._

 

“I really don’t want to go down and talk to Abernathy.” Mumbling to Alphys as I take my feet once more, I follow her back to our computers to check through them.

 

“It doesn’t l-look like there was a-any interference…” Alphys remarks absently as she looks over the data, then back at me. “You have t-to. I p-probably will too, later…” Her expression turns very sorry. For the both of us.

 

“He didn’t do anything wrong though… I don’t think he was completely here.” Roaming over to where I’d practically thrown the camera, I scoop it up gently from the table, pulling the tape off and beginning to rewind.

 

“Are you sure y-you want to do that…?” Alphys asks warily from her position, hearing the little thing whir gently as it zips back to the beginning of the footage.

 

“Yeah. Frisk said Sans wasn’t looking at them… so I’m just curious.” Little footsteps pad up beside me, so I settle down in a chair to allow Alphys to see as well. Finally, it stops and begins to play forward.

 

I fast-forward through the initial pleasantries, the soft glow of Frisk’s SOUL illuminating the room, up until the flickers of Sans’s eye begin to pop into view. The camera shakes as I throw it on the table, angling toward the corner of the room he’d gone to. I watch myself attempt to comfort him, flinching at the sudden violence and staring in muted horror as my SOUL becomes visible through the skin and bone, highlighted by Sans’s magic as it’s flung to the ground. The little indigo thing can be seen stuttering several times in my chest before turning royal blue abruptly. Which must have been when I felt like I was being smashed. But Sans’s eye hasn’t been on me this entire time. It doesn’t even skim over Toriel when she rushes to my side. And it’s on something much closer than Frisk would have been.

 

I stop the footage, running it back to where his eye begins to short out again before flipping through it frame by frame. Quickly at first, I don’t see anything out of the ordinary initially. Until his neon glow begins to fracture off of a figure darker than black. Just a formless thing, cast into the light on the very edge of the viewfinder.

 

There is something incredibly unsettling about what I’m looking at.

 

Handing over the camera, I allow Alphys to take a closer look, pointing out the edge of the screen. She stares for a long moment, the image before her reflected on the glass of her spectacles.

 

“Wh-what is it?” Alphys looks up to me expectantly.

 

“You don’t see it?” Incredulous, I take a closer look at the image again. It’s still there, like a black stain against the camera lens.

 

“It looks d-dark…” She hedges uncertainly, giving me a very concerned look. “L-look, after you talk to Abernathy, t-take the rest of th-the day off. I-I’ll check on you l-later, b-but honestly y-you should probably get a-an x-ray to make s-sure you h-haven’t broken anything.”

 

“Alphys, please.” I’d be on my hands and knees if I thought it’d help.

 

“Look, e-even if Sans d-did see something… i-it’s probably about t-time he g-got out of the l-lab life a-anyway. I-it’s probably w-wearing on him. I’ll start work o-on something that can r-replicate what h-he does. L-less elegant, b-but it’ll get the j-job done… J-just don’t let Abernathy c-cancel us.” Alphys fumbles with her hands as she speaks, unsure of the entire situation it seems. “Y-you’d better take the camera w-with you… H-he’ll want to see wh-what happened.”

 

“Okay.” All I can do is agree at this point. Sensing Dr. Abernathy’s impatience several floors away, I shakily bring myself to my feet. “When do you want me to come back in…?”

 

“G-give me a day or so. I-I think I know w-what I want to d-do…” The smallest ounce of unease in the back of my mind tells me not to leave her alone in this room.

 

“Maybe we should move the equipment. Just in case, you know… he is right.” Mumbling the last bit, I look to her hopefully. Alphys hesitates very prominently.

 

“Yeah… yeah i-if that would m-make you m-more comfortable. I’ll h-have Undyne h-help me at lunch.” I struggle not to make my sigh of relief too obvious. We stand apart awkwardly for a moment or so before Alphys finally closes the distance, hugging me too-tightly initially before easing up after I give a pained wheeze. “I-I’m sorry…”

 

“Alphys, it’s not your fault. I’ll make sure Abernathy doesn’t put a stop to this.” I smile reassuring for her, pulling away. “I’ll text you.”

 

“Y-you better. B-bye.” Alphys turns from me to look around the room, clearly beginning to calculate the dimensions of her next invention.

 

As soon as I’m out of the room, I tug my phone out of my pocket again, taking a picture of that frame and, after ensuring I can still see the shadow, sending it to Sans.

 

 

_xxx-xxx-xxxx (10:31AM)_

_[image 1]_

_-I see it too. Please text me back._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ehehehe. Spoopy happenings. If anyone has any creepy music for me to listen to, please drop suggestions lol. Music fuels my writing process and although I have SO MANY ideas, I can feel a block coming on, so anything helps.
> 
> Posting this from work where the hap is fuckening apparently. Please let me know if anything's messed up; I'll be going through it myself as well.
> 
> You can find me on tumblah at: onthewingsoficarus.tumblr.com 
> 
> Thank you for reading as always!


	13. Delirium

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologize for taking a little bit longer with this chapter than I have so far with the others. Had free NBA tickets dropped in my lap, so obviously I wasn't going to refuse! Unfortunately, I think the updates will be a little more spaced out for a little while. I'll be attending a ball with my bffl this weekend (yeah, a ball. I'm surprised with myself too lmfao), which I'm super psyched about, but I won't be bringing my laptop along (bc that'd be rude of me to be clacking away when I don't get to see her often at all anymore). However, knowing me, I'll probably be drafting on my phone at some point while I'm away. Do not fret though, I'll have time to at least crank out one more chapter, if not two before I go, and I'll only be gone for the weekend.
> 
> All that said, enjoy this chapter!

I give Sans ten minutes to answer me, about as long as I can as I linger just outside of Dr. Abernathy’s office. After seeing the “typing” bubbles pop up and disappear more than once early on, I receive nothing more, and I know I cannot risk keeping Dr. Abernathy waiting any longer. Pulling my shirt up to ensure as much of the bruise as possible is covered, I knock twice before opening the door, entering.

 

“Sit down, ____.” He doesn’t look up from his paperwork as he speaks, so I do as I’m told, settling anxiously in one of the two hard-backed chairs in front of his desk.

 

Silence permeates the space between us, and I anxiously take to examining the incredibly bare amount of ornamentation in his office. His three degrees are framed pristinely upon the wall behind him. The only other framed image on his wall appears to be a photo of some pre-medieval military art. Two opposing sides do battle within the photographed mosaic, smatterings of the dead visible where the art hasn’t been damaged by some outside force.

 

“____.” Abernathy’s sharpened call of my name causes me to flinch, immediately looking to him. “Are you alright?”

 

“I’m fine.” The shreds of my voice completely contradict my words, but I keep my head up in an attempt to keep my emphasis on the words. “It was an accident.”

 

“The skeleton said the same thing, though he seemed a little unsure of himself.” I can feel my brow furrow at his terminology.

 

“What did Sans say…?”

 

“That’s not what you’re here to discuss. I want your description of the event.” Dr. Abernathy shuts me down neatly, eyes flicking to my lap. “I see it may even be on tape…” He motions for me to hand over the camera, and I do so with the slightest hint of frustration eking through. Taking the device, he begins to go through the footage, motioning me to speak with a wave of his hand.

 

“The experiment was going smoothly until you can see, Sans starts to express magical energy. He didn’t seem to be able to control it, so I tried to help him. I’m not really sure how I intended to do that, but I was going to try…” His eyes widen slightly, and I’m positive he’s witnessing my experience with Sans’s magic. “I didn’t know why, but I hit the floor and Sans stood up. He looked like he saw something he interpreted as a threat… I think there was something. You can see it if you pause the footage right before the subject’s mother comes to my side.” He appears to be following my instructions after watching the entire tape.

 

“Did you feel like your life was in danger, at any point?” He squints at the screen, as if he’s trying to see what I’d mentioned, then shakes his head.

 

“No. I mean, I feel like I would if I’d actually seen what was behind me during the whole… thing.” I give him my best impression of a liar, as a reminder of the panic I’d felt squeezes at my chest. I fall silent to let it pass, desperately. Dr. Abernathy’s cold gaze settles on me, cutting right through me, as if I’m flayed open before him. I shift uneasily in my chair, hoping he’ll look away. He doesn’t.

 

“I want a doctor’s note detailing your injuries. Do you understand?”

 

“Dr. Abernathy, it’s just a bruise—.”

 

“Do you understand?”

 

You had better **_understand_**.

 

Swallowing my confrontation, I nod begrudgingly. Until it comes bubbling back up not a moment later, knowing he’s wrong.

 

“Doctor, I believe with all my being that Sans did not mean to do me any harm. Dr. Alphys would back my statement up fully.”

 

“Oh, would she? That wouldn’t be a result of their extensive history as colleagues, would it?” Dr. Abernathy’s voice shifts abruptly, prickling at the back of my neck.

 

“No. She’s my colleague too… I don’t believe she’d want to see me hurt.” Finding that much a solid fact in my mind, Dr. Abernathy appears to change his approach, practically tearing open his desk drawer. Jumping at the noise, I grip onto the wooden armrests, thoroughly unnerved by his sudden off-kilter behavior. “What are you doing…?” I clear my throat, my voice beginning to fade even further with use.

 

“You are to proceed with the project.” To emphasize his words, he throws a cream-colored file onto the desk. Filled to the brim with forms and several slips of notebook paper, the cover opens slightly without any resistance to keep it closed. My eyes are drawn by the movement, catching a glimpse of the name on the file.

 

Sans.

 

I rip my eyes away, forcing them onto Dr. Abernathy’s slowly twisting expression.

 

"Your final results will indicate that a monster’s SOUL is too powerful to trust them with it.” He fully opens the file by slamming his hand onto it, leaning over the desk.

 

“You’re violating patient confidentiality, Dr. Abernathy.” Voice wavering as my body slides slightly further down the chair, I keep my gaze purposely locked onto him.

 

“I am trying to save your life.” He’s uncharacteristically worked up, practically snarling at me.

 

“Unless he’s threatened me directly, you’re not allowed to share anything he’s told you.” All the pieces begin to fall into place in my mind. He’d been seeing Dr. Abernathy for psychological care as his university-assigned doctor as part of compensation for his work with Alphys and me. No wonder he disappeared; he was embarrassed, didn’t want me to know. My confidence spikes instantly; I know I’m absolutely in the right.

 

“And what if that’s the case?” Daring me to contradict him, knowing I normally wouldn’t, he laces the question with venom, attempting to instill doubt in everything I’ve come to know about Sans.

 

"I think if it were, you’d have told me instead of holding his file open in plain view. Because you legally can’t say it.” The words come tumbling out, and I’m staring him down. Staying determined. Perhaps Frisk lent me a little of theirs.

 

Dr. Abernathy’s grip on his desk becomes clawlike as his hands strain to squeeze the wood harder. He looks as if he wishes those hands were around my throat. I stand quickly, blackness pricking at the edges of my vision, and I realize I should definitely take Alphys’s advice sooner rather than later.

 

“You might as well put it up. I'm not going to do that to him.” Newfound friends are infinitely better than shitty professors. I grit my teeth, marching for the door.

 

“Then perhaps I can show him yours. We’ll see if a monster can be as _noble_ as you claim to be.” Icing over, I freeze, turning to face him. On the desk now is a folder the same color as Sans’s, if perhaps a little yellowed with age. “This has followed you around for quite a while, it seems.” Sure enough, my name is scrawled across the label, but I have no idea how Dr. Abernathy could’ve gotten ahold of it. I’d seen counseling services a few times during my academic career at the university, whether as a result of too much stress or my parents’ bullshit, but I'd never wound up in his office. Perfectly aware of the contents of that folder, I can feel myself tense up in spite of the nearly overwhelming wooziness creeping in.

 

“Go ahead. I planned on telling him anyway.” I blurt out in defiance, still feeling a bit daring.

 

“I wonder why that would be. Isn’t philandering with a colleague strictly against the university’s employment code of conduct?” Dr. Abernathy strikes back finally, and it’s likely a lethal blow. I fall silent, staring at him, which is equally as incriminating as speaking to him. “Oh, so that is the case, then.” My cheeks flush hotly, bitter anger causing me to clench my fists. Cornered.

 

“Thought you fired him since he supposedly attacked me.”

 

“So which is it then? Are you infatuated with this thing or terrified of him?” I’m such a fucking idiot. I practically gave it to him wrapped up in a bow. After letting me fester in silence for a moment, Dr. Abernathy’s lips spread in a vicious grin unlike anything I’ve ever seen as he gives his verdict. “Honestly, I couldn't care which it is. Continue the project. Manipulate the results as I told you. And I’ll allow you to maintain your employment and housing.”

 

“Yes, sir.” Anything to get out of the conversation. Head spinning at the prospect of homelessness and unemployment, I shove my way out of his office, staggering back to the garage. Sizing up my bike, I contemplate the risk involved in attempting to get to the hospital in my current state, sliding down to sit on the floor as I do so. That’s not going to work.

 

I tip my head back against the wall and shut my eyes, growing more acclimated to the idea of passing out right here on the concrete. I’m already this far down; I won’t bust my head open and kill myself. Just a little sleep would be nice. However, my phone decides now is an opportune time to give an urgent buzz against my hip. Grumpily, I remove it and examine the screen critically.

 

 

_Dr. Alphys (11:00AM)_

_How’d it go? ._.;_

_xxx-xxx-xxxx (11:02AM)_

_not goo_

_Dr. Alphys (11:03AM)_

_tf is goo?_

_-Are you okay?_

_xxx-xxx-xxxx (11:05AM)_

_no I don’t feel good_

_Dr. Alphys (11:05AM)_

_Where are you? o__o;_

_-Did you make it to the hospital?_

_\--???_

_\---???????_

_xxx-xxx-xxxx (11:08AM)_

_no I’m in the garage_

_-I neeed a adult_

_Dr. Alphys (11:09AM)_

_omfg._  
  


_-Undyne’s on her way. I’m coming down._

I can’t get my phone to send the next message I manage to type up, deliriously mashing my finger against the unresponsive screen. Another message notification pops up as I struggle with it, and my phone permits me to take a look.

 

 

_Sans (11:11AM)_

_kid, that’s not possible._

My phone again refuses to cooperate with me, and the concrete beneath me feels cool and nice, so I decide to lay down while I continue to press the stupid ‘send’ key over and over and over. Finally, it goes through.

 

 

_xxx-xxx-xxxx (11:16AM)_

_yeah it is_

Nice one.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> excellent use of your one text, Reader. Great job. *two thumbs way way up* Don't worry though, Reader will be a-okay! For now... 
> 
> subterfuge within the university lab. gasp. BUT THE SPOOPS.
> 
> If anyone's curious, the artwork displayed in Dr. Abernathy's office is "The Alexander Mosaic", which you can find here: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/File:Alexandermosaic.jpg Alexander the Great is pictured reking the Persian army. The artwork has subsequently been rekt by lava. Thnx Pompeii. But it didn't rek Alexander's face. bless.
> 
> Thank you so much for the kudos and sweet comments! It seriously lights up my day when I get to talk to y'all and see that people actually like what I'm doing. I love you all and thank you again for reading!


	14. Omen

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, we're flashing forward just a week. I felt like writing a day-by-day detail of Reader bedridden would've been a waste, but that may be just me. Let me know what you guys think! This encounter was getting a bit long, so I'm splitting it into two parts.
> 
> ALSO omg, 100+ Kudos and we're over 1000 hits now?! For my first Undertale fic, I'm very proud of these numbers. Thank you guys so much for coming on this journey with me and for all the support! I'm so excited to keep this little thing goin' for you guys.

It turns out Toriel had significantly overestimated how much her healing magic had depreciated with disuse. I felt really terrible about it when I saw her again.

 

I spent a very long afternoon in the emergency room with Alphys and Undyne, trying not to scream at the idea of how much I would have to pay for all the poking and prodding. Eventually, after jumping through all the figurative hoops and undergoing examination via x-ray, it was determined all I had were bruised ribs. Fuck. All that time and money and I didn’t even break a bone.

 

Assigned to my bed for a week, I had nothing to do but dread returning to work. Alphys covered for me, thankfully, and periodically updated me on the progress with the new machine in the new room. And luckily, I wasn’t ever left alone for too long. Toriel brought Frisk by at least once a day to drop off food and make sure I was taking my pain medication on time, supplementing her visits with a sign language lesson each time. Papyrus came by with a Tupperware container of his spaghetti and a bar of chocolate, and I did my damnedest to eat some of the pasta in front of him. Undyne and I spent the most time together; she’d accompany me in my room and we’d busy ourselves marathoning anime while Alphys worked, occasionally disappearing to train with Papyrus. Whatever that means.

 

But I saw nothing of Sans. He occasionally responded to my texts as long as I didn’t mention the darkness. But he checked in daily to ask how I was doing and drop a joke.

 

* * *

 

 

_Sans (12:24AM)_

_knock knock._

_xxx-xxx-xxxx (12:25AM)_

_Who’s there?_

_Sans (12:25AM)_

_flower._

_xxx-xxx-xxxx (12:27AM)_

_Flower who?_

_Sans (12:28AM)_

_flower you?_

 

 

I can’t stop the little smile that begins to tug at my cheeks. Rolling over into a less comfortable position, I work at keeping my eyes open to talk to him since I haven’t heard from him all day.

 

 

_xxx-xxx-xxxx (12:30AM)_

_I’m good. Not doing anything. How’re you?_

Seconds later, a couple of sharp knocks echo through the room. Curious as to who’d be at my door after midnight, I sit up and drag myself out of bed to take a look out the peephole. Nobody there. Probably just a drunk kid banging on the wrong door. I start to step away from the door, another knock sounding.

 

“Who’s there?” Pressing my face up against the door, I stare a little harder out of the peephole, a flicker of movement catching my eye near the floor.

 

Curiosity nipping at my heels, I unlock the door, cautiously opening it a crack and peeking out, then fully opening the door after discovering the source. At my feet sits a small pot of indigo blue pansies, teeny yellow eyelets in the middle of each blossom peering back at me. A smile instantly alights on my face, and I stoop to examine them, taking one of the faces in my hand gingerly. Like a lightning bolt from above, comprehension jolts through me, and I instantly look up and around.

 

“Sans…?” Uncertain, I call out quietly in consideration of the other people in my hall. Sure enough, with a shuffle of his fluffy pink slippers, he appears from the closest doorway. I straighten up, hugging the clay pot to my side carefully and returning his sheepish smile. “You used the same joke twice in a row.” I tease him lightly as he steps closer, though he keeps a safe distance between us.

 

“heh. i know, but i did it for effect, bud.” Stifling a snort, I shake my head at him reproachfully.

 

“Why don’t you come in? I’m going to wake up all my neighbors if the jokes keep blossoming between us.” The pinpricks of his eyes widen slightly, brightening right up as the grin on his face spreads. Sans chuckles at my response, but very clearly hesitates in place, a bead of sweat slipping down the side of his skull. I open and close my mouth several times before finally forcing something out. “Sans, please… I’m fine. In fact, more than fine, now that you’re here.” Mortified with myself, I hope I’m deep enough into the shadows that he can’t see the bright pink blush I can feel smearing across my cheeks. Stupid.

 

“i just came to see how you were. thought thistle make you feel better.” Shoving his hands in his hoodie pockets, he stays right where he is, indicating the flowers with a nod of his head. I think I can see the slightest bit of baby blue under his eyes, but I can’t be sure.

 

“They do… They’re gorgeous, really.” I glance fondly back down at the pansies, a smile tugging lightly at my lips. When I look back up, I can definitely see a light shade of blue refracted across his cheekbones, my smile widening. “Sans, please. This is ridiculous. Technically, you still oak me a favor, remember?” He sighs a little laugh, leaning forward slightly before actually taking a step.

 

I turn around, expecting him to follow me inside as I quickly look over my room for a good place to put the flowers, turning on my two lamps since they’re less oppressive than the overhead light. Thankfully, I’ve kept my room fairly neat with all the company I’d been receiving. He closes the door behind us, stepping to the middle of the room and standing a little awkwardly, which seems so off to me; he’s always been so sure of himself from the moment I met him. Luckily, my windowsill appears to be large enough to fit most of the pot on it, so I reach over my desk and gingerly settle the pansies there, spinning the pot to ensure most of the blossoms will get sunlight.

 

“What do you think?” Glancing back over my shoulder, I ask Sans’s opinion, which seems to jar him slightly.

 

“i’d move it clover a little bit.” After a quick recovery, he gives me a smug grin. When I shake my head and start to obey, he speaks up again. “nah, kid, i’m just trying to get a rose out of you.”

 

“Saaaaaans.” I drawl, adding on a little grumble and fixing the pot back the way it was before turning back to face him. “You can sit down if you want.” I pull out my desk chair, motioning to it since it’s unfortunately one of the only forms of seating I have available in my significantly smaller room. I abruptly miss my apartment again. Sans nods gratefully, crossing the distance and plopping right down. I busy myself looking for the one bottle of ketchup I know for a fact I have hidden somewhere in this damn place, digging through my food stash in an effort to find it.

 

“you’re, uh… moving okay, it looks like.” Sans remarks after watching me toss a package of expired EasyMac into the trashcan.

 

“Yeah, it doesn’t really hurt all that much.” Victorious, I hoist the bottle out of my mini-fridge after unsuccessfully looking through my makeshift pantry. “Want some ketchup?”

 

“’course, i can never turn down the good stuff.” I roll my eyes, wondering how that taste got started before picking out a soda for myself and dropping his ketchup off with him. Settling on my bed, I stifle a yawn as I crack open the coke, chugging several sips in an effort to get the caffeine flowing. “if you’re, uh, tired, kiddo, i can just take off.”

 

“I’m not, just need a little extra boost.” I shake my head firmly. “You can’t leave, anyway. Everybody else has been in and out of here the whole week.”

 

“i wasn’t sure you were ready to see me again after i nearly killed you.” Sans’s voice flatlines at mentioning what’d happened, but he doesn’t seem to be inclined to leave.

 

“Except you didn’t. Just bruised ribs, that’s all.” I cross my legs and lean back against the wall, preparing myself to knock away any claims of fault he made. He’s silent for a moment, taking down a couple gulps of ketchup before speaking again.

 

“so you’re okay then?” Sensing he’s not going to believe me unless I give him some kind of physical evidence, I tug the collar of my two-sizes-too-big PJ t-shirt down to show the remnants of the injury. Mostly yellowed, a few small splotches of purple can be seen towards the center of my chest. But definitely leagues better than before. Sans heaves a visible sigh of relief, explaining quickly as anxiety appears to puddle within him as he speaks. “it’d been a while since i’d, uh… done that. and the last time, i meant to cause some damage. i think you already know, but i really didn’t mean to hurt ya, kid. i kind of freaked out a little on ya.” I nod to encourage him, inform him that he thought correctly. Slightly more comfortable silence settles between us; we’re working through it.

 

“Yeah. I knew. You really didn’t seem all… there.” After a moment, I phrase my words carefully, looking at him the whole time to make sure I’m not saying anything that could upset him.

 

“yeah.” All he manages on that subject for now, rubbing the back of his neck nervously. The little beads of light flick down to my chest before checking back to my face. He hesitates visibly, but eventually forms his question, gingerly. “would you, ah… mind if i made sure if you’re okay, ya know… in there?” I’m confused initially about the meaning of his query, but he clarifies by pointing at my chest.

 

“M-my SOUL?” Unnerved instinctively, I fold my arms defensively, but I don’t mean to sound so apprehensive.

 

“heh, it’s okay if ya don’t have the heart, kid. i get it.” Sans raises his hands innocuously, showing he means me no harm. I relax at the pun, shaking my head at it. “tell ya what, kiddo. you let me take a look so i can sleep okay again, and we’ll play twenty questions. no holds barred.”

 

That prospect is extremely tempting.

 

I nod after a few seconds, fudging a little just afterwards, “If we can ask questions first.”

 

“that’s not how the saying goes, kiddo, but i’ll allow it. halfway through.” Sans allows a compromise, extending his hand and instantly jerking it back when he realizes I didn’t want him anywhere near me the last time we interacted.

 

“Sans.” I catch his hand before he can quite pull completely back, squeezing it gently. He relaxes significantly, sighing and nodding.

 

“alright, alright. i get it.” He gives me a wry little look, to which I can only smile.

 

“Good.” I release his hand, satisfied, motioning him to ask the first question.

 

“what’s your favorite movie?” I’m completely thrown, blinking several times before even trying to answer.

 

“Wait, is that seriously your question?”

 

“yeah. i’m just trying to make this a chill experience. break the ice, ya know.”

 

“You just wanted to make that pun.” I groan and pull my pillow into my lap, glaring a little at him. Sans waits expectantly for my answer, and I eventually provide it after a little thought. “That’s really hard, uh… _Blade Runner_.”

 

“what’s that about?” My mouth immediately falls open, and I can’t help but gape at him.

 

“You mean you’ve never seen _Blade Runner_?!”

 

“nah. we didn’t have much for entertainment in the underground, other than mettaton and his ridiculous movies, and whatever we could dig out of the garbage dump. paps loved those stupid things, i just suffered through them.” Sans grumbles lightly, and while I find his voice kind of adorable, the fact that he nonchalantly mentioned that they actively dug through trash in the Underground sat awkwardly with me. He doesn’t even flinch over it, and that bothers me. It’s becoming steadily more obvious that the Underground was significantly worse than it’d been mentioned to the human public. Perhaps if they all knew, the racism would die down. But probably not. Humans tend to be shitty like that. “now, i won’t count that as a question if you show that to me, because it sounds like it’s very sharp and that mettaton definitely isn’t in it.” Drawing me out of my mulling, Sans gives me a little vocal nudge.

 

“Deal. But there are androids.”

 

“as long as mettaton isn’t one of them, i’m great with that.”

 

“He definitely isn’t.” I laugh a little at Sans’s abhorrence of the blocky metallic monster with an excessive amount of personality I’d seen on TV occasionally. If he was the only thing available to watch, I’m fairly sure I’d hate him too. Deciding to stick with an innocent question my first time around, I echo his. “What’s your favorite movie?”

 

“ _metropolis_.” To my surprise, it’s one I’ve actually seen.

 

“The really old sci-fi movie?”

 

“yeah. i really like that genre, but most of the tapes around ended up trashed by the time they got to us down below.”

 

“I can definitely help with that!” I reply cheerily, indicating a stack of DVDs next to my TV stand. “Undyne can call me a nerd all she wants, I don’t care.” Sans gives a hearty laugh at the mention of Undyne, taking another sip of his ketchup as he ponders his next query.

 

“is the doc just as much of an asshole to you as he is to me, or is that just a me thing?” Instantly, I freeze up, as if Dr. Abernathy could possibly hear this conversation. “jeez, kid. i’ll take that as a ‘no, definitely not just you’.”

 

“Yeah… I kind of really don’t want to go back into work tomorrow.” I remind myself Dr. Abernathy is only human; he couldn’t possibly be here without my knowledge. “You’ve been seeing him, haven’t you?”

 

"uh… yeah. i have been. i don’t think it’s getting the job done though. why?” Sans’s eyes darken slightly as I can see him work through the possibilities of why I’d ask him that, answering honestly since I’ve already seen him coming out of his office. He likely figures he has nothing to lose.

 

"I don't know if you'll believe me." I hedge anxiously, playing with the pillow cover.

 

“trust me, sweetheart, it’s pretty hard to actually surprise me these days.” My thoughts nearly stutter to a complete halt at the new nickname—where did that come from—but I manage to pull myself together under the weight of what I know.

 

“He tried to show me your file.” His eyes go completely black, phalanges grinding into the plastic of my chair audibly. Wincing at the noise, I clench my hands together, biting my bottom lip. He takes a breath, and I watch as his eyes fade back in, his grip easing up considerably on the chair.

 

“what’d you see?” Again, his voice sounds flat, downcast.

 

“Nothing. I didn’t want to do that to you.” Bewildered, his stark pupils fly to my face to judge whether I’m maintaining the truth. In an instant, he eases back into the chair, clearly happier, but still studying me as if I’m a puzzle he can’t quite crack.

 

“well, i gotta say i’m pretty impressed, kiddo. i bet you’re plenty smart enough to make a pretty good educated guess though.”

 

“I have my suspicions…” I admit after his invitation, adding, “Though it doesn’t bother me either way. Want you to know that.”

 

“tell ya what, sweetheart. i’ll give you two guesses so you’re even with me.” I know it’ll only take me one.

 

“It’s Post-Traumatic Stress.”

 

“ding ding ding, we have a winner. you know, it took the doc a week to pick up on that. i’m beginning to think you should take his job.” I snort at that, shaking my head fiercely.

 

“I don’t have a doctorate. Do I get one more question since it took me one guess?” He nods his reply, patient. “Did he try to show you mine?” Sans’s expression shifts, taking in the existence of my own folder alongside the actual question.

 

“no. he won’t shut up about you sometimes though.”

 

Pause and comprehend what the hell that means. “Uh. That’s not creepy at all.”

 

“yeah. like dropping hints that i should avoid you or something.” Sans drums his phalanges against my desk at his side, watching for my reaction.

 

“He said something similar to me a couple times.” I’m grateful immediately for the dim lighting I’d provided us with, reaching up to try to rub the blush away from my skin.

 

“well, i don’t know about you, but i think he should make like a tree and leaf us alone. my turn again.” He starts in on the next question before I can groan too loudly over his pun. “since you know why i’m seeing the good ol’ doc, lemme ask why you have a file too.”

 

“My teachers in high school thought I was being abused by my mom.” Shrugging as if it’s no big deal, I wave my hand dismissively. “I get really anxious sometimes and occasionally get night terrors. Saw counseling a few times while I was in undergrad here. Just easier to have a standing prescription in case I need it.” Sans leans forward, resting his elbows on his femurs, looking like he’s about to ask another question before I hold up my finger. “Ah-ah. It’s my turn now.” Keep acting like it, and it’ll be okay. It’s okay. Sans continues watching me, as if I might combust any second, and I shift uncomfortably under his gaze to force him to look elsewhere at least for a moment.

 

“okay, fire away.” His voice comes gentle, a vein of empathy easily detected just below the surface. Inhaling sharply, I steel myself before taking aim.

 

“Did you see the same thing I did? That day in the lab?”

 

He shuts his eyes malleably, taking in a deep breath but appearing mostly relaxed. Of course, he had to have expected me to ask him about it.

 

“do you still have the picture?” I nod, grabbing my phone from its charger and flipping through the images, squinting at the one I’d sent him. I could swear the blob’s changed forms, but I hadn’t looked at it in a week so I couldn’t be sure. Uneasy, I pass my phone to Sans, allowing him to take a look. “what do you see?”

 

“I don’t know what it is. But there’s something over here. It’s really dark, whatever it is.” Indicating the right side of the frame, I lean over and trace the form on the screen to highlight what I’m looking at since Alphys hadn’t been able to see it when I showed her. When I remove my hand, Sans studies the image for what feels like an eternity, bright eyes dimming very slowly to almost nothing.

 

“yeah. yeah, you see it too.” Finally, Sans looks back up at me, and based on the pained expression on his face, I’m not so sure I want to know what it is.

 

“So…” I prompt him gently, not wanting to ask, but that inkling of curiosity in my head still needs to be fulfilled.

 

“it’s… a really horrific lens flaw.” He forces his voice to quake, and I growl lowly, shoving him, causing him to laugh.

 

“Fuck you, Sans.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> An image of the flowers Sans gave reader if you wanna know :D - http://image.shutterstock.com/display_pic_with_logo/4826/4826,1178467861,1/stock-photo-indigo-blue-pansies-3238376.jpg 
> 
> My headcanon is that Sans makes a crap-ton more puns when he's nervous haha.
> 
> Also, in following with actual Undertale canon, Sans is a sci-fi fan, but the poor thing needs MOAR in my fic. No shame if you haven't seen Blade Runner, but if you wanna stare at Harrison Ford in all his glory, plz do lol. My personal favorite is the Director's Cut, but the Final Cut is the only one Ridley Scott had 100% control over (if you've never seen it, there are actually HUGE differences in the cuts. you could be watching an entirely different movie for each version). As for Metropolis, it's on Netflix last time I checked and it's pretty damn odd (keep in mind it's from 1927 if you do decide to go for it). I think I personally need to rewatch it because the first time I was forced to for a class.
> 
> Anywho, thank you again for reading! I'll do my best to get the next chapter out before taking off this weekend.


	15. Scar Tissue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> FLUFF HERE TAKE IT. Not sure how happy I am with this chapter... probably because I wrote it two different days because I passed out in the middle of it the first time and then after work couldn't get effectively into the groove. And stress. So much fucking stress. Alas. It's here. I'll be updating again after trying to have some fun away from my computer this weekend (most likely sometime on Monday, if not early Tuesday). 
> 
> Notes aside, I hope you enjoy!

“Seriously, Sans. What is it?” Continuing to probe him for answers, I watch as he spreads his fingers against the screen, zooming in on the offending object.

 

“i have a couple theories. i may have to take a little trip back to the underground to check on some things.” Finally, he decides to give me a slightly straight answer, passing the phone back to me.

 

“So, nothing to worry about?” I ask as I lean over to plug my phone back into the charger.

 

“nah. and if there is, i’ll take care of it.” Beginning to relax a little more, he props his foot up on his knee, taking another sip of his ketchup. “now, you asked about a hundred million questions there, but i’ll just count it as one.”

 

“Aw, thanks. You’re so kind.” I grin sarcastically, motioning him onward. “Go ahead.”

 

“ya got any family, kiddo? other than your, uh… mom.” Since I’d delved into more dangerous territory with my previous question, I suppose it’s only fair that he gets to bite back a little, considering he’d obviously been curious when I revealed that little hint of information about my personal life. Quiet for a moment, I play with the pillowcase in my hands, figuring out how to speak about it. “i have some theories about why your SOUL looks the way it does, too. if you’ll do a little searching, remember i offered to help you… that offer still stands if you want it to.”

 

When I look up to him, he’s scooted the chair closer, holding his hand out for me to take. Nodding, I accept his offer, lacing skin and bone, exchanging the fabric for his grasp instead. He lets me pull his hand into my lap, and I settle it on top of my pillow. I idly begin trailing my fingers against his metacarpals, examining the tiny divots and scratches and the way his hand fits mine to distract myself.

 

“My dad…” Straggling softly, I manipulate his digits into a fist, then press my hand against it to spread it again. I can feel him shiver ever-so-slightly. “He died about five years ago. Car accident.” Attempting to sound cold over it but not quite making it, I inadvertently grasp onto his hand a little more tightly than I’d intended.

 

“’m sorry, kiddo.” He squeezes my hand back, so gently it hurts. Some part of me wants to pull away, to hurt him back for making me talk about it, but I rein myself in before doing something idiotic.

 

“Not your fault.” I shake my head instead, mumbling back.

 

“…where is she now?” His eyes blacken as he speaks, though he seems to continue watching me work over the hand he’s lent me.

 

“I get another question before I’ll answer that.” Nodding in agreement, Sans gives the hand currently in his a little tug, and I relax my muscles to let him have it. He mirrors what I’d done with his hand, tracing the lines on my palm. The feeling’s a little ticklish, makes it slightly difficult to recall what I’m supposed to ask him next, but I eventually manage it. “Do you have any family other than Papyrus…?”

 

“not anymore, thankfully. my… father, if you could call him that, he’s gone.” Sans very carefully takes my index finger between his thumb and forefinger, pressing carefully to feel the bones through the skin. “your ma and my pops would probably make a great match.” Chuckling mockingly, he sneers at the thought.

 

“Ew.” I shudder, grasping his hand again in my own and just holding the pair between us, gingerly brushing my thumb against his capitate and scaphoid. “I don’t know where my mom is, actually. She checked into rehab and I didn’t want to see her again, so…” Shrugging lightly, I watch him mimic me, responding to his prior question and surprising myself with my relaxed tone.

 

“i gotcha.” Sans’s lively gaze rests back on me, up from our hands. “think you have the heart now, kiddo?”

 

“Yep.” I give him a little crooked smile, his hand a squeeze. “Need this back?”

 

“nah. just stay relaxed for me, and you can keep it.” Nodding in response, I pull his hand back to my lap again, and he stands from the chair to close the little distance between us. My cheeks flush instantly at the height difference between us while I’m sitting down.

 

“Okay.” I reaffirm my grasp on him, watching his eyes black out before the left one returns, aflame in aqua blue and bathing the room in his light. Extending his free hand, Sans very gingerly takes ahold of my SOUL, the feeling familiar now, not so disjointed. Willing myself to release it, let him have it, the heart-shaped entity slides from my chest with ease, and not an ounce of pain. My much cooler, deeper glow washes over us as he allows his magic to fade, perfectly in control this time. Worried it’ll fall without anything around it as there’d been at the lab, I hold out my hand beneath it, pulling a small chuckle from Sans.

 

“it won’t fall, kiddo. you’re alright though, if you want to touch it.” I grimace sheepishly, clearly ignorant as much as I’d like to know about the SOUL. Cautiously, I brush my fingers against one of the curved sides, a little shiver skidding up my own spine in response. Laughing nervously, I look up to Sans for an explanation. “it’s an extension of yourself, of course… any kind of touch, you’re probably going to feel ten-fold.”

 

“Are they all so warm…?” I’m a bit in awe of the little thing, cupping it in my hand and willing it to settle there, surprised when it does so. Instantly, that same warmth froths around me, a subconscious smile pressing on my lips. Sans laughs kindly at my amazement, shaking his head.

 

“no. icy that some of them can be kinda chilly.” I begin to roll my eyes, stopping when my SOUL gives a forceful, but small thump in my hand, an involuntary gasp escaping my lips. I glare down at it reprovingly, only to look up and find Sans’s skull dotted with droplets of sweat, which immediately evaporate into nothing the instant I catch sight of them. Carefully extricating his hand from mine, he takes a small step back, settling back down haphazardly in the chair. I cock my head at his abrupt behavior change, watching him a little warily.

 

“Sans…? You okay over there?” I bring my other hand in to hold my SOUL close.

 

“y-yeah… yeah, sweetheart, i’m just fine.” I follow his gaze, looking back to my SOUL again and studying it for whatever he’s locked in on.

 

“What’re you looking at…?” Giving up after a moment, I relent and just ask him, hoping he’ll stay as open as he’s been since we started talking.

 

“um… heh. well, kiddo, i didn’t realize you were so… attached to me.” Sans reaches up, hinging an index finger on what looks like empty air. Only, when he moves his hand slightly downward, a twinge ripples right through me, SOUL first.

 

“What--?” Gaping uselessly, I desperately try to get a glimpse of the thread he’s pulling, how he’s managing to create such a raw sensation without _touching anything_. “Sans, what the hell are you doing?” Regaining some semblance of control after a moment, I reach out as well, waving hopelessly right through whatever he’s got ahold of. Sans rolls his wrist lightly, as if twisting something around his finger, and brings his hand in slightly. My SOUL emits a throb of color, answered by the tiniest of sparks beneath Sans’s hoodie, just barely visible through his undershirt. Abruptly, I understand, or I think I do, covering my tomato-red face with my shirt and immediately taking my SOUL and burying myself under my pillow and blankets. Fuck fuck fuck fUCK! I can hear Sans laughing softly just above the covers.

 

“____, hey, you gonna come out of there?” After realizing I’m not coming back, Sans reaches over and pokes the lump of blankets I have become.

 

“Nope. I’m going to live under here and become one with my bed.” I reach out from under my covers, quickly snagging my phone and dragging it under with me. “See, now I can live just fine.”

 

 

_xxx-xxx-xxxx (1:39AM)_

_HE KNOWS THIS IS ALL YOUR FAULT_

_Alphys (1:40AM)_

_Who knows what?! How?! =_=_

_xxx-xxx-xxxx (1:41AM)_

_SANS SANS KNOWS HE KNOWS I HAVE A STUPID FUCKING CRUSH ON HIM AND HE’S HERE RIGHT NOW I HATE MY LIFE OH MY GOD_

_Alphys (1:41AM)_

_OH MY GOOOOOOOOOD!!!!11!1!!!1 *A*_

_-I gotta tell Undyne, holy crap._

_Undyne (1:42AM)_

_NO WAAAAAAAAAY_

_-FUHUHUHU THIS IS HILARIOUS_

_Alphys (1:43AM)_

_Wait, why’re you texting us IF HE’S STILL THERE?! oAo_

_xxx-xxx-xxxx (1:43AM)_

_I’m hiding._

_-under the covers._

_\--I’m never coming back out. Alphys, plz accept this as my letter of resignation, thank._

_Alphys (1:44AM)_

_NOOOO ;AAA;_

_-What’s he doing right now?!_

_xxx-xxx-xxxx (1:44AM)_

_probably waiting to laugh at me the instant I come out._

_Undyne (1:45AM)_

_I DOUBT IT._

_-HUMAN, FACE YOUR FEARS._

_Sans (1:45AM)_

_kiddo, ya got me hanging by a thread out here, c’mon._

_-all i want to do is talk._

_\--i’m not mad, if you’re worried about that._

_xxx-xxx-xxxx (1:47AM)_

_HE’S TEXTING ME NOW WHAT DO I DO_

_Undyne (1:47AM)_

_REPLY, OBVIOUSLY._

_xxx-xxx-xxxx (1:47AM)_

_FUCK_

_Sans (1:48AM)_

_please?_

_-:(_

_xxx-xxx-xxxx (1:49AM)_

_…fine._

Slowly, shyly, I extricate myself from the covers, pulling my pillow back into my lap to give myself some form of comfort, mumbling, “What…?”

 

“let me show you something.” I glance up at him, his baritone voice beckoning irresistibly. Sans places his hand against his own chest, over the spot I’d seen the little flashes, drawing it away after a moment. Another SOUL comes to fill the space, his, opalescent white, almost blindingly so. Blinking into his light, I hold my own SOUL close, drawing miserable comparisons in my head about how perfect his is, hallowed where I am so obviously depraved, murky, and broken. Until a pulse of electric blue shoots up the little thing, highlighting fissures even deeper than my own rippling from the center of the SOUL.

 

“Sans, no…” I can hear my voice hinging on a whimper, unable to imagine what could have caused that level of mutilation, suppressing the almost unbearable urge to reach out to his SOUL, protect it.

 

“told ya you couldn’t be the only one with a cracked SOUL, sweetheart.” His eyes find mine across the space, still smiling in spite of the state of his SOUL.

 

“I didn’t think you meant _you_ , though…” The entity against me gives yet another ache, and I visibly wince at the pain. “How…?” His own expression twists to echo mine, grimacing as he takes ahold of his SOUL.

 

“heh, now’s not the time for that, kiddo.” Sans laughs a little painfully, shaking his head slowly as I search out the joke I know he’s implanted in that sentence. I can’t find it, concern fizzing in my head. “look right here.” Recovering quickly, he indicates the space between us, then clears his throat. “your eyes are a deep shade of dominant genetic trait. i like that.”

 

“Was that a pickup line?” Giving an embarrassed snort, I cover my mouth and nose quickly, trying not to laugh, and then staring in quite a bit of shock as a tenuous silvery thread subsequently appears right where Sans had directed. It disappears almost as quickly as it appears, fading into nothingness.

 

“it’s still there.” Sans replies to my not-quite-yet-voiced question, then adds, “just dropping a line here, but i’m guessing you like me. tibia honest, i like you too, kiddo.” The grin on his face spreads sadistically as the string reappears, giving me away no matter how much I moan and groan over his bad puns.

 

“You can’t; that’s not possible.” Irritable at being caught, I bury my face back in my pillow.

 

“yes, it is. if the doc sees it, you better be able to, too.” Surprised, I instantly raise my head again, blinking at him as comprehension registers.

 

“You think that’s why he was telling us to stay away from each other?”

 

“i don’t see why not. and honestly, pissing the doc off seems like a really nice added bonus, don’t you think?” The vibrancy of his SOUL fades as he replaces it rather easily beneath his bones. I can’t seem to figure it out on my end, so he reaches over to help me, dusting my cheeks in soft pink as my SOUL gives a tender little pang at his proximity. He smiles, and I’m sure he can see that silly little thread again even in the comparatively dim lamp lighting.

 

“I don’t know, Sans… we could get in a ton of trouble.” Which I’m not worth. My mind very helpfully pulls up a list of my few, but all failed, relationships, icing the cake with choice phrases from my past. Fantastic.

 

“a skeleton.” No, don’t do it. Shit. I giggle quietly, a part of myself hating it. I shouldn’t do this to him. He deserves better.

 

“Sans…” I try once more, rather feebly, to keep him at arms’ length.

 

“me sans you would make me very blue. c’mon, kiddo. don’t leave me all bonely.” Smirking all dastardly, he grabs my hand, forcing his almost-perpetual grin as close to a pout as he can possibly make it.

 

“Fine.” Slayed by his masterfully constructed wordage, I surrender, though not without a slightly defiant roll of my eyes.

 

“ _you’re_ fine.”

 

I won’t dare admit it, but I love it already.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That's the slowest burn I could possibly manage apparently, lol. It just came out of me. 15 chapters isn't all THAT bad lol... No bone zone right off the bat, ya gotta wait, ya filthy sinners. ;) That's something I'm definitely trying to avoid: a too-early trip there. MORE MYSTERY TO COME. TF IS THAT THING. Spoopy, that's what. 
> 
> Thank you guys for reading! I hope you all have a wonderful weekend!


	16. Systemic

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm baaaaaaack! God, I so needed that weekend. All the waiting I've been doing lately has been a real stress on my sanity. Not sure how happy I am with this chapter, but I felt the need to move the plot forward slightly since we've had a lot of fluff lately. And by a lot I mean NEARLY EVERY CHAPTER LMFAO I'm so pissed at myself. TERROR IS COMING I SWEAR gah. and more fluff, of course. I need to reread this and maybe make some edits, but I wanted to get an update out for you guys since you waited so patiently.
> 
> Hope you guys enjoy! Back to more regular updates!

Summer rolled by with a steady ease about the rest of its days, and before I knew it, campus was once again bustling with more activity than just myself and my coworkers. The influx of students provided Alphys, Sans, and I with significantly more subjects to work with and kept us all very busy. In spite of Sans’s inability to assist us any longer by personally taking charge of SOUL removal, he proved very helpful with his continued lunch provisions and corrections of the machine built to replicate his power. Undyne, of course, kept coming by the lab to ensure we all knew we were nerds.

 

Sans and I were moving along slowly, thankfully. Although he’d talked a big game about irritating Abernathy, for my sake, he kept it himself in check whenever the doctor had an opportunity to appear. However, from the moment I got into work every day to the last instant after he’d walked me out to my bike, Sans was close-by, only interrupted by his sojourns to the hotdog stand. We kept up appearances; he went to his appointments with Dr. Abernathy, I played ignorant. Outside of the confines of work, we saw each other fairly regularly, mostly at my dorm since Sans was concerned about Papyrus not being able to keep the little thing between us on the down-low. I began to get used to his daily routine: he’d always be exhausted after work and would resign to a nap at the very least until Papyrus had dinner ready for them, at which point I’d usually receive a text either answering a previous query of mine or informing me of what he was doing ( _spaghettin’ ready to eat)._ After dinner and Papyrus’s bedtime story, Sans would begin responding more regularly, and we’d grab a late dinner or just talk until we fell asleep. Sometimes, after a little while, we’d be up again going back at it.

 

Distracting ourselves from the damage.

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

“Thank you for participating! I can email you a copy of your results when they’re processed, if you’d like.” Chipper tone dialed up, I engage the most recent subject, feeling quite old speaking to someone just four years my younger.

 

“U-um, sure!” The little freshman responds, a bundle of nerves. This is probably her first experience with research in college, and a pretty intense one at that with SOULs at stake.

 

“Okay, great. And I see you’ve written your email address down, so keep an eye out within the next few days. Sound good?” I star the edge of her form to remind myself that she wants her results.

 

“Yes ma’am!” She pipes enthusiastically, easy enough for her to just wait on an email.

 

“Oh please, just ____, if anything.” Smiling kindly, I lift my hand to give vague directions. “You can get out of the building by taking a left out of this room; the elevator will be the second door on the right. First floor, take a right and just keep walking straight until you reach the exit.”

 

“Thank you!” And with that, I head back to the machines to take a look at what Alphys is working on. Our new lab space is somewhat smaller than the old room and further away from her office, but she’s made it work very well. Her latest invention, considerably more delicate and refined, accompanies the enlarged rattlesnake’s skull of a machine, and the new one’s shape makes me wonder about the fauna present in the Underground. Like an elongated jellyfish, the husk of the device contains all the circuitry, while hundreds of small, but firm even in their flowy curvature, tentacle-like clear wires extend from it, directed towards the subject’s standing place within our spectral analyzer.

 

“Do we h-have any m-more tests scheduled this a-afternoon?” Alphys is currently busying herself tending to one of the translucent tendrils, seeming to be trying to relieve it from the machine.

 

“I think we just have one, then we’re done until tomorrow.” To give her a hand, I reach inside the machine, pushing my hands gingerly against the wires to spread them out around the one she’s working on to give her easier access.

 

“G-Good. We’re starting t-to r-run through th-these sensors p-pretty quickly.” Appearing considerably relieved, Alphys manages to tug the wire free, showing it to me just afterwards by running a clawed finger over a crack in the tubing.

 

“What’s wrong with it?” I reach over into a cardboard box nearby, carefully handing her a new wire in exchange for the broken one, setting it aside.

 

“S-Sans is a-a better conduit f-for this kind of m-magical e-energy. P-probably has something t-to d-do with o-organic material versus inorganic…” She reaches back into the device, making a few adjustments before stepping back to examine it.

 

“Is there a way to get organic material to work with for this?”

 

“N-not without v-violating s-some ethics up here…” She grimaces as she speaks, and I immediately echo her expression, vigorously shaking my head.

 

“Yeah, no. Let’s not.”

 

“If I c-can f-find a way w-without the e-ethical i-issues, I-I’ll definitely l-let you know.” With a quirky little grin, Alphys checks over the remainder of the machine.

 

“ya know, i think i heard a little compliment there, alph. think i got a little zing about me, huh?” Sans appears in similar fashion as he always has, without warning and in a corner.

 

“I-I don’t! I just s-said you were a b-better c-conduit th-than this wiring.” Indignant, Alphys rolls her eyes and snaps back.

 

“I think you have a little zing about you.” Grinning shyly, I take up for him, causing Alphys to groan audibly.

 

“that’s only because i’m with you. we have a little spark between us, ya know.” Sans tugs me in by the waist, smiling at the peals of laughter that immediately erupt from me and the resounding slap of Alphys smacking her own forehead.

 

“Y-you’re b-both intolerable.”

 

“Alphys, no! You wanted this!”

 

“Th-that’s what makes it w-worse.”

 

“shoulda known, alph. i’m bad to the bone.”

 

Alphys rears her hand back to throw a wrench at Sans’s face when the door opens, our next participant stepping in.

 

“O-oh, welcome!” She lowers the tool, instead giving Sans a sharp glare and moving to the computers. “Come r-right in, both o-of you, ____ w-will get you s-set up.” Glancing behind me, I instantly freeze in place. Of course, why would it be anyone else?

 

My ex, in one of his many Polo golf shirts and freshly pressed pairs of slacks, voluptuous platinum blonde girl hung around one arm, smiles as wide as humanly possible at me. Until Sans turns his head the same direction as mine, his magical eye angled to them. I swear I can see the tiniest flicker of bright blue. But I won’t say anything. The mortified twist in his expression is the icing on the cake I might have to lick off.

 

“Oh, Shawn, it’s so great to see you!” The words roll right off my tongue with ease, and I lean into Sans, having him turn us around to face them. “I didn’t know you were participating! Not sure that’s so great for privacy purposes, but you’re welcome to help out of course. Along with your new girlfriend; I’m sorry, I don’t know your name.”

 

“Becca…” The girl trails off, staring all wide-eyed at the both of us. As accepting as most people are of monsters, the human-monster relationships still throw more humans than not. She may be in the "thrown" category.

 

“Hey, Becca. You’re welcome to join us.”

 

“Oh, no thank you. I was just… here for Shawn.” She gives him a reproachful look, and I begin to understand he made her come along. So he did know this is my study. And brought her to make me jealous, apparently.

 

“Well, in that case, could you have a seat over by the door there? You’ll be able to see from there.” The girl nods, taking Shawn’s backpack with her and settling down where I’ve indicated. I’m beginning to pity her.

 

“right this way, kiddo.” Sans breaks away from me briefly to lead Shawn to the machines.

 

“Not a kid, but sure.” Rude, too. Yikes. Shawn scrunches his face in irritation, climbing into the snake’s head and slumping in place.

 

“Don’t take offense, Shawn. Sans calls me that all the time.” I gather up the required paperwork, then move to angle the newest addition in our arsenal at Shawn’s chest. Sans mumbles something under his breath that causes Shawn to stand up straight, and I instantly shoot him a look. “What was that?”

 

“nothin’.” Shrugging innocently, Sans gives me a little wink, and I decide to let it go as he moves to help Alphys with the lighting in the room.

 

“So, you and him, huh?” The next time I look up at Shawn, his arms are folded over his chest, stance slightly widened to project superiority.

 

“Mmhm.” I hum pleasantly, then approach him. “If you’ve got your cellphone or keys on you, I’ll have to hand them over to your girlfriend.” No venom, and I’m a bit surprised with myself. I suppose there’s no point now that I’ve got something better. In spite of it. It’s over and done with. He begrudgingly obliges, passing me his cellphone and keys from his pockets. I take them and head back to Becca to deposit them with her, giving her a smile as well, which she returns, seemingly genuinely. Yeah, there’s no point in being mean. She didn’t do anything. “Are you sure you don’t want to participate? You get to find out what your most dominant trait is.”

 

“Um… I dunno. Maybe I’ll see how it goes with Shawn, then I’ll think about it.”

 

“Okay. Well, just let me know.” I return to my usual seat, finding Sans beside me within an instant. “How’d you know…?” Lowering my voice, I turn to him as Alphys finishes up her motions.

 

“i didn’t. you tensed up though, and that was all i needed.” About half a smile alights on my face, and I find myself taking his hand and giving it a little squeeze. “you’re going to have to tell me about him later, though.”

 

“Deal, if you finally take me to Grillby’s.” His mouth quirks up a little at that suggestion, and he supplies a nod.

 

“was that an earthquake, or did you just rock my world?” Snorting, I give him a little shove with my free hand.

 

“You do know you don’t need to use pickup lines on me, right? You’ve already got me.”

 

“guess i don’t realize sometimes. all i can think about is you.” My lips part slightly, and I take a breath to say something, but before I can think of exactly what to say to something as sweet as that, Alphys flips the lights on us.

 

The new machine is a sad imitation of Sans, really. Cold and surgical in a way, it utilizes dual bright blue beams of artificial magic to lift the SOUL in question from its bodily containment, though the lack of a brain behind it eliminates all risk of conflict engagement. After a period of about twenty seconds, the device automatically dials down to let our subject’s primary color wash through, allowing our original work to take over in its analysis. Nothing near as exciting as watching Sans move, kinetic and so very alive in his procedure. While the new machine looks like a jellyfish, it can’t really be compared when it’s at work, too static to mistaken for life.

 

This SOUL is as golden as the sun, and I wonder in that moment if that’s what I found attractive about him. But not quite yellow.

 

We’d found a very slim portion of the population we’d examined so far exhibited blends of colors, like me. In fact, we’d only found exactly two so far, including myself. The other, a rich blood-orange, had been a former soldier returned from war to finish his education. Shawn may be bringing our total to three, but I can’t tell strictly visually. I’d have to get a look at the numbers to be sure.

 

The same faux-magic envelopes his SOUL to press it back against his chest, where his body accepts the entity once more and he heaves a visible sigh of relief. I release Sans’s hand, the both of us standing and going through our motions to ensure the experiment has ended safely. Sunlight spills into the room once more, and Shawn visibly relaxes as I motion him to step from the machine.

 

“Pretty painless, right?” I can’t begin to believe my good mood. It has to do with Sans.

 

“Yeah, I, uh… Was kind of surprised. Thought the gigantic metal snake-head would bite me.” Shawn rubs his shoulder, following me to a table nearby where I’ve laid out his paperwork.

 

“nah, it only does that to people we tell it to.” Jumping at Sans’s voice, Shawn bends over the papers and immediately starts filling them out.

 

“Just bring them to me when you’re finished. Take your time and answer honestly.” I give my instructions as if Sans hasn’t said a thing before strolling to my corner of the room to work on scoring the rest of the surveys from the day. Sans trails after me, lazing in the other chair I’ve included at my desk for his sake, while Alphys continues her adjustments on the new machine.

 

About fifteen minutes later, Shawn stands to bring me his papers, leaving with Becca in tow but significantly more subdued. Sans kidnaps my hand when they’re gone, forcing me to struggle slightly at navigating the paperwork with one hand, but I manage. As if he’s never seen it before, he examines it, rubbing his fingers over my nails gently, very lightly pinching the small amount of webbing between my fingers. To keep him entertained, I circle my wrist with my other hand at one point and squeeze while wiggling my fingers, my veins pushing to the surface and remaining that way for a moment after I let go. He presses gingerly on the tracks of raised skin I’ve temporarily created, as if he’s still trying to figure me out.

 

Without warning, the door flies open once again though I was sure the three of us were supposed to be alone until closing time. Alphys immediately snaps to attention and Sans’s drops our hands to our sides before letting go discreetly.

 

“Ah, good, you’re all still here.” As if we’d be anywhere else.

 

“Good afternoon, sir.” Alphys’s stuttering echoes me, and I can feel my eyes narrowing just slightly.

 

“heya, doc.” Dr. Abernathy pointedly ignores Sans’s informality, stepping further into the room and towards our machinery.

 

“Considering it’s been around two months since you began testing, I assume now is as good as any time to observe the kind of work you’re doing here.” He’s come with clipboard in hand, ready to pass his judgment.

 

“Well, we’re still gathering our sample on humans… we don’t have another subject scheduled for this afternoon.” My breath catches in my throat as his eyes come into contact with my own, but I steel myself, willing myself not to give anything away.

 

“Actually, I will be your subject.” He smiles with an air of sadism about him, settling his clipboard aside on the nearest table. Alphys and I exchange a brief glance of “oh fuck” before I decide to speak up, knowing Alphys’s voice is liable to shake apart.

 

“Sir? Are you certain you’d like to participate?”

 

“Of course. You do need as many humans of all kinds as you can acquire. Strictly college students do not provide a wide enough variety for your sample.” I refrain from informing him about how we’ve reached out into the community and received several replies from people of all ages.

 

“Y-you can f-follow ____, then, s-sir.” Alphys speaks up, voice barely breaking a whisper. Dr. Abernathy looks to me expectantly, and I spin on my heel to do as I’m told, leading him over to the machinery.

 

“Step inside here, sir.” Sans follows behind him, watching us like a hawk.

 

“And this is?”

 

“The spectral analyzer.” I finish for him, watching as he steps up on the stand within the mechanical beast’s mouth, then backing up to ensure the new device is aligned with the appropriate spot in his chest.

 

“Intriguing.” Abernathy glances around at the machine’s inner workings, and then at me. “This one appears to be new.”

 

“Y-yes, sir. W-we built it to p-put less s-stress on Sans.” Alphys states as she moves around the room, beginning to draw the shades closed again with a slight flare of irritation in her stride.

 

“I’d prefer if he assisted.”

 

“Sir…” Blinking in a bit of shock at his suggestion, I glance to Sans, then back to Abernathy.

 

“Oh, I think it would be helpful for him.” The same slightly-off expression I’d witnessed in his office is back, smile tugging at his thin lips, eyes calculating. Knowingly risking injury to inflict mental duress.

 

“sure, doc. whatever you think’ll help.” If Sans is perturbed by the doctor’s suggestion, he isn’t showing it. Aloof in appearance, he slouches in his stance, stuffing his hands in his pockets as he stands next to the device we’d built to replace him. I flip the switch to turn it off, brushing my hand against his back as I move to pick up the camera. When I take my seat, Sans directs a little thumbs-up my way, could easily be discerned as a sign to go ahead and begin filming.

 

“A-are you r-ready, sir?” Alphys takes her own place by the switches, and after receiving a nod, flips them all off.

 

It appears to be the same song and dance. Sans instantly illuminates himself in the radiant electric blue afterglow of his left eye, raising his hand to Dr. Abernathy’s chest. Gripping the camera tightly, I note that the man in the skull is cast in quite an eerie light as Sans begins to pull his hand back. Sans’s expression shifts after a brief moment where his elbow’s at a right angle, and I know the doctor’s SOUL should have presented itself by now. A small bead of sweat dribbles down the back of Sans’s head, shimmering oddly.

 

Something's wrong.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, sorry to anybody named Shawn or Becca! They may have a slight role later on. MORE FUCKERY. 
> 
> Dr. Abernathy's still an asshole, but who'd a thunk that one, huh? 
> 
> Thank you guys for reading! Expect the next chapter much sooner than this one!


	17. Crush

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is what happens when I listen to weird remixes (like the "Kazoo Kid Trap Remix" by Mike Diva???? why???) and stay up too late and stress out way too much. Except I always do that, so this always happens. Oh well... 
> 
> We're gonna give that graphic warning a little more meaning this chapter. I'm warming back up to it, but this is by far and away not the most gory thing I've ever written. And there will be significantly more to come. :)
> 
> Please let me know as always if there are any awful errors and I'll correct them! Hope you enjoy!

Sans’s eyesockets widen abruptly, his energy faltering about him, and I could swear the shadows look solid, clawlike and scrabbling against the light.

 

“Sans!” An anxious cry ripped from my throat, and everything freezes, the beads of white light in his eyes flicking to me in desperation before the darkness swallows him whole. “SANS!” A spike of panic plunges into my brain.

 

Why does it feel like I’ve seen this before?

 

Abandoning my post, instinct pushes me to get to some light-source. I feel wildly for the window as one is closer than the switch. Shutting my eyes and opening them makes no difference, but I try to keep them squeezed shut, terrified of what I may see if I keep them open. Hisses of circuitry and little clicks of machinery resonate within the room; at least I tell myself that’s what they are until they meld into Sans’s voice, Alphys’s, others’ I’m not too sure I’ve heard before. Unintelligible words echo from them all, followed by a high-pitched unnatural screeching. Something like headlights flood my vision, and like a dumb little doe, I just stand there.

 

“Dad…?” The name leaves me before I can quite stop myself, childish; I can’t help but wonder perversely if this is what he saw.

 

Buffeted down like the blow was meant to be significantly more, my back cracks audibly against the tile anyway, and I gasp for some kind of handle on myself, even if it’s just my own breathing. I can’t find it. Kicking against the slick floor, I struggle to push myself to the wall I know is just behind me, pressing myself against it and groping frantically along the windowsill. The din in my ears crescendos, threatens to carve out the inside of my head like a pumpkin.

 

A scaly hand locks my ankle in a vice-grip and tugs harshly just as my hand closes around the pulley attached to the shades, tearing a scream from my lips as I cling to my newfound lifeline. Whatever creature has me looses a disturbing shriek, its hold slipping just enough for me to yank on the chain, forcing the blinds up just enough.

 

A thin beam of golden sunlight glints through the opening I’ve created, illuminating whatever has found itself in the lab with us. Screaming in agony at the influx of light, it completely loses its grip on me to cover its misshapen face, form appearing to almost melt against some kind of base beneath it.

 

I draw the shade up higher, breathing hard at finding Sans before me, with Alphys pressed against his back. Several bright blue bones glimmer sharply as they’re sunlit, hovering in the air around the three of us. One of the makeshift magical weapons lies embedded in the floor near my feet, becoming one with the dust motes as it fizzles out of existence. The creature, whatever it is, recedes with the diminishing shadows, melding into them and out of sight as it drags a trail of thick red liquid behind it. The beast leaves behind a shattered husk of a body, a sickly pastel orange SOUL pulsing weakly over it before it too is enveloped by the residual darkness, falling away into nothingness. And I can’t keep back the horrified wail pealing from my mouth at the sight of what’s left.

 

Dr. Abernathy’s face is mangled nearly beyond recognition, as if shredded from the inside, his arms bent around his frame unnaturally. A little token someone’s toyed with. Crimson smears his usually pristine lab coat rather quickly; there must be more wounds beneath it. Miraculously, he still breathes, wet and labored.

 

It’s all I can do to move enough to clap my hand over my mouth and quiet down, tears streaking across my face as I realize I can faintly taste blood. But I force myself to crawl forward, knowing Abernathy needs help. I can block this out for a little while. Right?

 

“____.” Sans voice is steadfast in the silence, a warning to be careful without so many words. Alphys appears to be in too much shock to handle the mass of skin and bone, stuttering wordlessly. Sans removes his slightly bloodied hoodie, pulling it onto her and shoving the hood down over her eyes before scooping her up and carrying her to the door. “call an ambulance.” He instructs her firmly, dialing 911 and pressing his phone into her hands, while he returns to help me with the doctor.

 

“Y-you can’t t-teleport h-him?” I choke quite a bit, numbly tying his lab coat tighter around him in an attempt to staunch the bleeding underneath it, applying extra pressure with my hands, the only thing I know to do.  

 

“the jump would kill him.” Sans shakes his head, sockets a little empty in this moment, like he’s trying to distance himself from the rising tide of dread as well.

 

“O-okay…” Resigned to that, I nod anxiously, sitting back on my heels as my mind splutters over the massive amount of thought I’m trying to force through it. Is he going to live? Was that his behavior all along or the creature’s? What is that thing? Will the police assume we did this? Alphys and I for our creation of the machines? Sans with a documented history of injuring colleagues? What is that thing? Where did it go?

 

What is that thing?

 

As if sensing the whirring cogs in my brain, Sans’s bony arm falls around my shoulders and tugs me in against him. I instantly slump into him, but flinch when I realize I’m staining his white undershirt.

 

“no, don’t. it’s fine.” Hearing his voice so close, rumbling softly from his ribcage, I nestle my ear against his chest. “just stay.” Once I’m settled, he rests his hard chin on top of my head, breathing deeply. Teetering on the edge, the both of us, but we’re fine. We’re fine. It’s fine. Like he said.

 

The loud wail of sirens just outside draws us from apart slightly, red and blue flashes spinning idly over the wall opposite the window.

 

“Wh-what do we tell them?” I faintly manage to voice one of the multitude of questions caking over my mind.

 

“the truth. SOULs are still obscure enough for someone to believe in an accident wholeheartedly.”

 

“But that’s not what i-it was…” My gaze draws level with his, and his expression instantly tightens, like he’d hoped I wouldn’t have seen the same this time.

 

“no. not at all.” His body creaks as he tenses slightly.

 

“Later…” Sans nods in response, and I look back to see if Dr. Abernathy’s still with us, receiving a pained breath as a reward. “Wonder if he could give us answers…”

 

“if he ever wakes up…” We simultaneously fall silent as the stomping of boots booms down the hall.

 

“HANDS IN THE AIR! DO NOT FUCKING MOVE!” The commands come through the open doorway, though no one is immediately visible. Even Alphys seems to be gone, though where to, I’m unsure of.

 

“I-I can’t! I-If I do, h-he may b-bleed out!” I’m surprised at how sure I manage to keep my voice, swallowing immediately after as a man in full police body armor steps into view, pistol trained directly at us. Sans had been making to comply with instructions, but locks his arm around me the instant the gun comes into view, a silent snarl pulling at his teeth. “W-we’re not a-armed! P-please!”

 

The standoff comes to an end about two seconds later, perhaps as a result of the desperation in my voice or the officer’s analysis of the situation: two researchers—almost kids—and the distorted body of one of the university’s tenured professors. He waves the people out of sight forward, and the paramedics are the first inside. Two insect-like monsters begin weaving green magic over Dr. Abernathy’s form, a human moving to take my place at his torso, smiling kindly despite the situation to signal that it’s okay for me to move. I can’t bring myself to return it.

 

Sans brings me to my feet once I’m free, keeping me tight against him, even a little painfully so as we’re ushered from the room. Alphys appears to have been forced to the floor, and upon seeing us, the officers around her yank her upright again.

 

“Alphys!” I manage to loose myself from Sans’s grasp briefly, moving to hug her. The authorities take advantage of our separation, one grabbing each of us by the arm and separating us at a distance down the hall.

 

“hey, buddy, don’t lose that jacket, alright?” Sans calls as if he’s joking, but the rigidity in his gaze at the man who tugs it off of Alphys says otherwise. They pat each of us down; Sans is given special attention since he’s the male, most outspoken so far, and they keep feeling hard “objects” under his clothes. “quite a bone to pick with me, huh?” Eventually giving up, he tugs his t-shirt off as well, rolling up his basketball shorts as much as possible, then releasing them with a huff when they finally believe he’s made of all bone.

 

“Can you tell us what happened in there?” My attention’s diverted directly onto the mustached and suited officer in front of me, probably the lead detective. Nodding shakily, I accept a form he extends to me, pressing it against the wall nearby to sign my acknowledgement that I am being recorded, am being watched, this can be used as evidence in a court of law, holy fuck it had better not be used as evidence in a court of law.

 

“W-we’ve been working on this for about two months, m-myself, Dr. Alphys, and Sans… S-supervised by Dr. Abernathy.” Casting a sideways glance down the hall toward Sans, I decide it’s best to gloss over most of the intricacies. I dive into how things went normally, intentionally neglecting the fact that Sans hadn’t been directly involved since last month, until suddenly things were not normal. And were certainly life-threatening. But I couldn’t put my finger on it. Just look at Dr. Abernathy for answers there. No mortal being could do that to another living creature.

 

“N-no. I didn’t see what it was…”

 

An exasperated sigh leaves the man’s body, like he’s sure this is another one of those oddities that will go unsolved, filed away in one of the dusty corners in a back room of the station.

 

“I’m sorry I couldn’t be more help.” I rub my shoulder unconsciously until I realize my hands are still wet with blood. And shaking again. “C-can I go w-wash this off?” He seems startled, and nods, motioning me down the hall to the bathroom in spite of the fact that I’m the one who works here. Worked, I note grimly as I pass by a couple of men wrapping yellow “crime scene—do not enter” tape to seal off the hallway. Shoving into the ladies’ room, I barrel into the sinks, turning one on and scrubbing furiously at the drying dark red substance covering both my hands. The white surface of the sink is instantly stained an ugly copper color, and I smash my hand down on the faucet when the timed lever stops the water. Scouring faster. Again. Slam. Not enough. Again. Slam. Still not enough. Again. Slam.

 

It won’t come off.

 

Feeling the agonizing tear of anxiety scratching its way up my spine, into my chest, I grasp the edges of the sink for stability. Panting heavily, I stare into the mirror, forcing myself to recall the same motions as I do when I have a nightmare. I’m in the university lab. Fourth floor ladies’ bathroom. I’m fine.

 

Except this isn’t a nightmare.

 

The thought seizes me by the throat, and it’s all I can do not to cry out.

 

“____?” A sob hitches within me, and I cover my mouth to keep it from coming out.

 

“I-I’m fine!” I call at the closed door, staring at it for a long moment and hearing nothing more, so I lean forward and press my forehead against the cool glass of the mirror. I work at digging the dried blood out from under my fingernails and around my cuticles for a little while in silence, focusing on that and breathing. In. Out. In. Out.

 

Eventually, I’m able to stand up straight again. Two knocks this time at the door. I know who that is. I take one last look at my hands, certainly clean by now, before grasping the handle and pulling the door open.

 

“you’re supposed to say ‘who’s there’.” Sans grins halfheartedly, offering me his hand.

 

“A-ah shit… who’s there?” Snuffling, I accept his offer, squeezing slightly.

 

“butch, jimmy, and joe.”

 

“Jesus, that’s a lot of people… Butch, Jimmy, and Joe who?”

 

“butch your arms around me, jimmy a kiss, and let’s joe. they’re shutting this place down, sweetheart.” It makes me crack a small smile at the very least, and I let him lead me away. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> whoopsies, there goes Dr. Abernathy. D: 
> 
> what is police interrogation aaaaah? lol it's horribly inaccurate, I'm sure. Oh well, we're getting a bit more into the mystery now. I shoulda named this chapter "the spoopening" but alas, here we are. 
> 
> tfw you're horrifically stressed and take it out on characters: this story. This ain't shit yet. ;)
> 
> You can find my trash tumblr at onthewingsoficarus.tumblr.com  
> Thank you for stopping by and reading! :)


	18. Composed

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, hello, it is I, author, with some ANSWERS. I know the last chapter was confusing, so this one is meant to bring a little light to the possibilities of what may be going on. Sans'll explain.  
> I've also made an attempt at updating the tags. I do have an idea of where this is going, but I don't want to reveal too much at one time. Especially not through the tags. Ick. 
> 
> As always, if there's an issue, lemme know! Hope you enjoy!

“S-stay in touch, o-okay? W-we should probably m-meet up s-sooner than later to t-talk about whatever the h-hell th-that was…” Alphys seems to have a better handle on herself, outside the lab and with Undyne’s steadying presence nearby.

 

“Definitely. I’ll text you later on.” The clean air has a similar effect on me; my limbs feel lighter, skin warmer. The both of us bridge the gap between us, hugging each other tightly. Something tells me Alphys doesn’t know the full extent of what Sans and I both saw. “Be safe…”

 

“You t-too.” Alphys murmurs back in reply, releasing me and pushing up her glasses as she looks back at Undyne.

 

“You nerds.” Undyne shakes her head, tutting critically. “Can’t stay out of trouble. Want us to wait for Sans to get back, punk?”

 

“Yeah…” In spite of the fact that there’s plenty of daylight left, I truly don’t feel safe alone right now. “It’d just make me feel better.”

 

“Oh! B-before I forget...” Alphys gingerly removes Sans’s hoodie, handing it to me.

 

“What’re you guys going to do…?” I nod, folding it carefully even with the fair amount of blood smattered against its front.

 

“Probably watch some anime.” Alphys’s face instantly becomes a beacon of radiant happiness, and Undyne can’t seem to help but laugh gently at her excitement. “Definitely watch some anime. I’ll order some takeout, too.” Alphys claps eagerly, eliciting an eyeroll from Undyne. “Anything to make sure we’ll be sleeping easy tonight. Even junk food.” Undyne eyes Alphys reproachfully. “Only for you, babe.”

 

“Th-thank you…!” Alphys gets up on her tiptoes and pecks Undyne on the cheek, a bright pink blush flooding through both of their scaly cheeks.

 

“Hush, nerd.” Undyne manages to maintain a little more composure, scooping Alphys’s bashful form up very easily as Sans flashes back to our little group. “If you don’t text us later like you said, I will find you.”

 

“And kill me?” I quirk a little smile more easily with Sans there.

 

“Exactly.” Undyne grins rather toothily before dashing off at full speed, with Alphys in tow.

 

“She seriously runs everywhere?” Turning to Sans, I offer him his hoodie.

 

“like a refrigerator sometimes.” In spite of the residual heat left in the day and the state of the clothing, Sans slips it back on, shrugging his hands into the pockets. “you ready?”

 

“I think? Where’re we going?” Shouldering my backpack, I nudge up the kickstand on my bike.

 

“you won’t wheelie need that where we’re going.” Sans inclines his head to the bike.

 

“Yeah, but how am I going to get home?” Surreptitious in my glance back at him, I wonder what he’s up to.

 

“i gotcha covered.” Sans winks mischievously, offering me his arm.

 

“The jump won’t kill me, right?” Now, I assume what he’s intending, hooking my arm with his firmly.

 

“nah. just a hop away. definitely keep your eyes shut, though. you might get sick this first time.” Sans readjusts my grip for me, tucking my hand in his hoodie pocket and grasping ahold of my shirt himself, ensuring our arms are still entwined. I swallow out of instinct, saliva automatically building at the prospect of potentially becoming ill. “hold on tight, sweetheart.” I obey, squeezing my eyes shut.

 

Within the same second, the space around Sans and me compresses, pressing us tightly together and firing us off through what feels like a straw, with such speed and pressure I can only compare to the first drop of a rollercoaster. All of this lasts no longer than another second, and we appear with an underwhelming little pop on the other side, feet on a much softer surface than the sidewalk we’d been standing on.

 

“you’re okay to open up now.” I nod in reply, doubling over and clutching at my cramping stomach. “whooooa, hold up there. easy.” Hard hands meet my shoulders gently, having me straighten up. “look at me, kiddo.” Nausea plucking at my innards, I grimace as I pry one eye open, settling on the snowy orbs of his eyes. Gazing at something static seems to steady my spinning head, and I manage to open the other eye as well after a moment. “there we go.” A soft sort of smile alights on Sans’s face before he leads my bike over to the nearest wall, and I’m compelled naturally to return the expression before taking a look at my surroundings.

 

Sans has dropped us inside a quaint little house, the walls a coppery orange, the floors covered in an odd sort of blue shag carpet. I figure it may be a compromise between the two brothers’ favorite colors, and decide it’s better not to comment on the awkward color combination—(men). We appear to be standing in the living room, accompanied by a couch and TV, along with a couple of beanbag chairs and two end tables on either side of the couch.

 

“Papyrus isn’t home?” I’m amazed I can still be concerned about Sans’s privacy after a day like ours.

 

“no, not yet. i don’t think he’ll mind if you’re here for dinner though; he’s been talking about the pastabilities of having you try his spaghetti since he met you. fresh this time of course, since last time he had to disgrace it with the inadequacy of tupperware and a microwave.” Sans shakes his head, grinning.

 

“Well, as long as it’s alright with you, I’d be happy to stay.” I concede with a happy little nod.

 

“actually, i was hoping you’d stay the night.” His grin morphs into a grimace as he sheepishly rubs the back of his skull, hints of a cerulean shade dusting over his cheekbones. “n-not that i mean anything by that!”

 

“Making you nervous, huh?” He’s rarely this off-guard, so I take a little advantage of it, laughing quietly before easing up on him. I’m not so willing to harp on him too much today. “No, I get it… honestly, if you were going to bring me back to my place, I was going to ask you if you could stick around. But this is better, then you, me, and Papyrus are all under one roof…” Sans nods a little in agreement, shifting in his shoes.

 

“not to shower you with too much at once, but if you want to get cleaned up, you’re welcome to.” I follow his gaze to a door nearby, then look down at the revolting condition of my scrubs, stiff with blood that isn’t my own. “i know ya probably didn’t bring anything to change into, but i can getcha covered.” Winking to accentuate his pun, Sans’s more confident smile returns.

 

“I’d love that.” Rolling my eyes, I decide to get back at him just to see him on his toes again, passing by him and planting a kiss on the side of his skull as I do so. I’m rewarded instantly with a cool flash of blue I’m sure is from his cheeks, and I grin all the way into the shower.

 

It’s when I climb in with the hot water at my back and in my hair that I finally can’t keep my emotions in check anymore, can’t continue smiling, can’t. Just can’t anymore. At the same time, I know this isn’t my shower, so I can’t be long, and that Sans is likely just outside the door. So, I bite down on my fingers in a pitiful attempt to keep quiet, sobbing softly through them.

 

Promising myself a longer respite in my own shower when I get home, I force myself to take stock of what I can use to get clean, almost rocked back into tears when I discover a travel-size shampoo and conditioner on the little ledge inside the shower. Probably what he went to handle when he teleported initially. I make quick use of them, letting the conditioner sit in my hair for a moment as I examine the other soaps available a bit out of curiosity and distraction. The color coordination has a smile forming on my lips: Papyrus’s body wash is obviously Mandarin Mash, while Sans’s is Ocean Splash. Shifting my hair back under the water, I decide Sans will be less adverse to me using his body wash, and take only as little as necessary to get clean. As I’m finishing up, there’s a short little knock at the door.

 

“Yes?” I call out, worried I may have taken too much time.

 

“what gets wetter as it dries?” I roll my eyes, turning off the faucet.

 

“You’re not seriously telling that riddle, are you?” Careful not to completely soak the bathroom floor, I step out onto the rug, immediately shivering at the temperature change.

 

“of course i am.” Sans opens the door just enough to pass a towel through, but seems to be withholding it until I give him an answer.

 

“Fine. A towel.”

 

“bingo.” My compensation, a very plush (blue) towel, is presented to me, and I gratefully accept it, beginning to quickly dry myself. “i brought some stuff for you to wear, but it’s probably going to be big for you.”

 

“I’ll make it work, don’t worry about it.” I tie the towel around myself to make myself relatively presentable, opening the door a little wider. “Thanks Sans.” I accept the bundle he hands over with an embarrassed smile at my presentation, hair wet as a mop and all.

 

“no problem.” Sans seems to take in a deeper breath than usual, gritting his teeth briefly before shutting the door once more. I take a moment to examine what he’s given me, smiling a little before pulling everything on. The navy blue NASA shirt is only a little too big, but perfectly comfortable, accompanied by a pair of his black basketball shorts, which I have to roll up and tie about my waist, and another thin royal blue hoodie of his. The hoodie has to be my favorite part about the ensemble. I zip up the front and pull up the hood just for the fun of it, breathing in deeply. His musk instantly washes over me, and I’m a bit surprised at how strong it is just off his clothes. Ozone, fresh in the air after a lightning strike, the crisp tanginess of old, loved books, and the clean crush of pine needles, all meld together in his scent as I hug myself within the sweatshirt. Thoroughly comforted, I decide it’s alright to go ahead and leave the restroom, balling up my dirty clothes in my hands.

 

“Much better.” I report pleasantly to Sans as he approaches the bathroom himself, ready to take my place.

 

“good. make yourself comfortable, i won’t be long.”

 

"Want me to start the laundry for you?" I offer gently, figuring it’s the least I can do.

 

“only if you really want to, don’t feel like I’ve lint anything to you, sweetheart.” He grin widens at my heavy sigh.

 

“You even have laundry puns?”

 

“sweetheart, i have puns for every occasion.” Giving me a little wink, he steps on into the bathroom, shutting the door behind him.

 

“Gimme your clothes!” I holler over the sound of water coming back on, and Sans obliges by piling his clothes just outside the door. I gather them together with my own and track down their laundry room.

 

It ends up being just off their kitchen, and I can tell neither of the brothers actively use this room too much, exemplified by a thin film of dust over both machines. It strikes me as a little odd; I assumed Papyrus would have kept up with his half. Shrugging, I separate the lights from darks in the small pile, tossing the darks in first since there are more. Maybe I can find some lights of Sans’s to throw in with his t-shirt later. I close the washing machine and apply a small amount of detergent. The machine groans to life after I give the dial a sharp turn, and I resign myself to the couch to wait on Sans.

 

True to his word, Sans returns in similar black PJ pants to the ones I’d seen him in when we’d spontaneously gone to Waffle House, another white t-shirt, along with his fluffy pink slippers. He slips yet another blue hoodie on, opening his maw to yawn as he comes to take his place next to me, flopping down.

 

“Do you have like a million hoodies or something?”

 

“at least ten, but they’re all of varying thickness for all kinds of weather. i had to get more than the one i had in the underground, since this place experiences a lot more of that than where paps and i lived down there.” Sans explains lackadaisically, tipping his head back against the couch.

 

"That's a lot of blue hoodies though.” Sans waves off my concern, smiling as he almost always does. “…so.” And it’s gone at my feeble attempt to bring up the topic we’re supposed to be mulling over.

 

“so.” Sans inhales deeply, sitting up a little more and seemingly preparing himself to talk. Probably intending to get this out of the way before Papyrus comes in.

 

“What… happened in the lab? I know you probably don’t know everything, but you have a better idea than me…” I rub at my shoulder anxiously.

 

“when i got ahold of his SOUL, it wouldn’t really budge. something else had a handle on it inside him, i think it may have been using him almost like a puppet…” His bones creak slightly as he laces his phalanges together over his stomach.

 

“Like possession?” Sans nods and then continues.

 

“magic makes it possible, but it’s considered pretty dark stuff when you’re bending another living entity to your will. most monsters wouldn’t dare. they left that up to asgore, who was obviously off enough to be willing to do it by that point. with seven SOULs, no less.”

 

“So is that different from the first child and Asriel?”

 

"yeah. the big difference between humans and monsters is the composition of our bodies. we’re essentially all magic, and our SOULs are tightly bound to our bodies because of it. when we die, there’s nothing left but dust, except in a few special cases. you humans are something like seventy percent water though, so while you can’t use all that much magic, your SOULs are significantly stronger. the body may die, but the SOUL will linger if it chooses to or is forced to. the… first kid, their SOUL stayed on a desire to see the flowers from their village one more time, supposedly. they were best friends, those two. monster or human participants, that’s what we in the business call a bond.” Sans’s hesitance over the first child makes me infinitely curious, but I decide to stay on task.

 

“So that was definitely not a bond.”

 

“no. with a bond, there has to be consent between both parties, at least relatively in the case of a dead human to stay, and i can pick up on that. possession is… very different. you can hear the dissonance within the SOUL being possessed.” A shiver claws its way up Sans’s back, and he zips up his hoodie in response, nestling his face in it.

 

“Could you hear that with Abernathy?” He shakes his head at that.

 

“no, the thing that had him was so tight around his SOUL, i couldn’t until i actively looked, which alerted it… that’s when things went downhill.”

 

“Do you know what it was…?” I lower my voice automatically, as if whatever the thing was could hear me now.

 

“i have it narrowed down to two theories… one’s a monster. the other one is… or was human. neither should be possible.” Sans appears to be nonchalant, but the tightness in his frame suggests otherwise. “but i’ve learned to ignore the boundaries of what’s considered possible.” He shrugs, rolling his shoulders as one gives a little pop. “either way, it seemed to want me to find it there. pretty daring if you ask me. and stupid. it went for alphys first, and then you.”

 

“Yeah… Caught my leg.” I glance down at the limb, a small red area circling my ankle now. It may be tender as the adrenaline fully wears off.

 

“hopefully the bone i picked with it served as a lesson not to touch you again.”

 

“It would for anybody smart.” I catch him studying the mark and wiggle my toes at him with a smile.

 

“you’d think that.” Sans chuckles wryly, taking ahold of my foot and running his finger up the bottom of it, eliciting a sensitive squeak from me.

 

“Sans!” I immediately yank my foot away and tuck it under me.

 

“aw, c’mon. don’t i tickle your fancy?” He waggles his fingers at me, grinning deviously.

 

“Maybe my fancy, but not my feet!” I heave an exasperated sigh, leaning against the arm of the couch and then speaking up again after a moment of silence. “…was that Dr. Abernathy’s SOUL? The orange one that disappeared?”

 

“pretty sure it was… he won’t wake up again without it.”

 

“How can he even live without it…?" I let my feet slip out from under me again, and he pulls them onto his lap, looking them over.

 

“again, you humans are weird… he’ll survive for a limited time without it, but at some point he’ll probably just…” Sans trails off, the whites of his eyes wavering a bit.  


“…what’re we going to do?” I mumble half to myself, feeling incredibly overwhelmed with all of this. There’s some kind of… maybe-monster-maybe-human-thing with a clear intent to cause us harm, starting with the people around us. The project’s on hold, so I’m jobless. My employer will likely die, unless we can get his SOUL back somehow, but we have no idea where the fuck the thing went with it. Even if he wakes up, did he mean what he was saying, or was the creature trying to manipulate both Sans and I? I bury my spinning head between my knees, moaning in frustration.

 

“i’m working on that—.“ The front door suddenly swings open, and I can’t help but start a little.  


“BROTHER, YOU WOULD NOT BELIEVE WHAT I SAW TODAY—OH MY GOD?!” Papyrus’s jaw falls wide open at seeing me again—no less in his house for the first time. “HUMAN! I MISSED YOU GREATLY!” Before I’m aware what’s happening, Papyrus has me swept up off the couch and into his arms. “ARE YOU HERE FOR A SLUMBER PARTY?!”

 

“Definitely, Papyrus!” It’s impossible not to be at least a little happy in Papyrus’s presence; he’s as radiant as the sun. “If that’s okay, I mean.”

 

“OF COURSE, HUMAN! THEN I CAN FINALLY SHOW YOU THE GLORIOUS SENSATION THAT IS EATING THE GREAT PAPYRUS’S AMAZINGLY FRESH PASTA!” Papyrus gasps, settling me back on my feet. “I MUST BEGIN THE PREPARATIONS NOW!”

 

“what’d you see today, paps?” Sans prompts him in spite of the smile spreading across his face at Papyrus’s enthusiasm.

 

“A kitty.” Papyrus’s voice drops as soft as I’ve ever heard it, his eyes watering a bit. “But it ran off before I could make friends with it.”

 

“Aw, Papyrus, that just means you’ll have to find it again.” I reach up to comfort him, rubbing his back gently.

 

“YOU’RE RIGHT, ____! I MUSTN’T BE DISHEARTENED!” With a flourish, Papyrus disappears into the kitchen, resounding clangs clearing the air in the house as he gets to work.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I definitely accept the headcanon that Sans is a dog person and Paps is a cat person lol. Paps may or may not also still wash his clothes in the shower. 
> 
> The stress in my life continuesssssss highkey laughing and crying at the same time about it. I'll get a handle on myself don't worry. and this story hopefully. That remains to be seen lol. 
> 
> If ya don't feel up to commenting, you can always message me on tumblr: onthewingsoficarus.tumblr.com  
> Thank you for reading, as always!


	19. Headlock

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mild blood warning? I guess? Kinda? I never really know if I should warn on some stuff... bah.

Dinner consists strictly of Papyrus’s cooking: a heaping helping of perfectly-cooked pasta smothered in a homemade tomato-basil sauce. It’s possibly the best I’ve ever had in my entire life, and Papyrus is right; it beats the hell out of the restaurant’s spaghetti marinara.

 

“I’ve got clean-up since you cooked, Papyrus.” It’s the least I can do with a hot meal warming my belly. Pasta may very well be the perfect cure for a rough day, I’ve decided.

 

“THEN THAT WOULD GIVE ME TIME TO CATCH METTATON’S NIGHTLY SPECIAL! THANK YOU, HUMAN! I WILL HAPPILY ACCEPT YOUR OFFER!” Papyrus gasps, rising quickly from his seat and practically galloping into the living room. A vaguely familiar theme song echoes in from the TV, and I assume Papyrus has already settled right in. Laughing softly, I begin scooping up the plates from the table and carrying them over to the sink.

 

“you wouldn’t believe how much paps has actually improved in his cooking… he’s been practicing that one dish for years now.” Sans supplies quietly once we’re alone again, sitting himself on the counter to accompany me. “it was actually inedible when he first started his lessons with undyne. poor frisk actually ate some of the stuff, a whole plate of it.” He chuckles lightly, though he looks downright exhausted, shaking his head and picking up what I’ve cleaned to place on the drying rack.

 

“Really…?” I try to wrap my mind around how anything could taste _that_ bad.

 

“yep, kiddo almost threw it all up on paps’s shoes, but they asked for seconds. that was the first moment i really got a feel for their determination.” As this is the first time Sans has mentioned his personal experience in the Underground aside from a passing explanation, I attempt to press a little further.

 

“Why were they so determined to eat Papyrus’s terrible spaghetti though?”

 

“feeling a little f-risky, maybe. or they felt like they needed to make up for something.” Before I can ask about that ‘something’, Sans hops off the counter. “i’m gonna go sit with paps so he doesn't get any ideas.”

 

I personally find it hard to believe a soul as innocent as Papyrus would muse over what Sans and I could be getting up to alone, but I let him go. It’s been a long day and I’ve exceeded my question quota, I’m fairly sure. So, I go ahead and finish up the dishes alone, taking the time to text Alphys and Undyne in our group message as well.

 

 

_xxx-xxx-xxxx (9:05PM)_

_Hey so_

_-this is me texting you guys so I’m not murdered._

_Undyne (9:07PM)_

_Mmmmmmhm that’s what I thought._

_-You and the bonehead doing okay?_

_xxx-xxx-xxxx (9:08PM)_

_Yup, had some of Papyrus’s spaghetti. You did a good job teaching, Undyne._

_Undyne (9:08PM)_

_Of course I did, I’m fucking Undyne._

_xxx-xxx-xxxx (9:09PM)_

_You’re ducking yourself?_

_-*fucking_

_\--I s2g I will slaughter whoever invented autocorrect._

_Undyne (9:11PM)_

_SERVES YOU RIGHT._

_-Also, ew, he’s wearing off on you._

_xxx-xxx-xxxx (9:12PM)_

_Ew yourself._

_-Where’s Alphys? At least she ships us. >>_

_Undyne (9:13PM)_

_Asleep with her head in my lap, the adorable nerd._

_-[image 1]_

_xxx-xxx-xxxx (9:15PM)_

_Stop being so cute._

_Undyne (9:15PM)_

_Impossible I’m afraid._

_-sounds like you all had a really rough day though. She normally outlasts me marathoning the shit out of some anime._

_xxx-xxx-xxxx (9:16PM)_

_yeah._

_-still not completely sure what happened. Is Alphys okay though?_

_Undyne (9:18PM)_

_More upset about the project going dark in the meantime I think._

_-She likes being busy, and they only gave her one course to teach this semester because of the experiment, so I think she’s gonna be a bit at a loss for a while._

_xxx-xxx-xxxx (9:19PM)_

_Well, maybe we can compile what we have… I hate this._

_Undyne (9:20PM)_

_Me too, punk. I’ll let Alphys know you’re off the hook. :p_

_xxx-xxx-xxxx (9:20PM)_

_…you do know that’s kind of a fish pun, right?_

_Undyne (9:21PM)_

_I’m going to murder your boyfriend. :)_

_xxx-xxx-xxxx (9:21PM)_

_Please don’t._

_-See you later. :P_

By the time I make my way into the living room, Sans and Papyrus seem to have gone upstairs, likely for Papyrus’s bedtime story. For my benefit, I note a blanket has been spread over the couch, the throw pillows removed and a more comfortable one in place at one end of the couch. Just the sight of the bedding forces an influx of exhaustion through my veins, and I crawl eagerly under the blanket. The background noise of Mettaton chiding his quiz show contestants for their ignorance fades in with the gentle hum of the air conditioning unit, and soon I’m dozing. Another hot night in the city.

 

 

* * *

 

 

People used to call me brave. All I’ve ever felt was sick.

 

“D-don’t fucking touch me like that again.” Except it’s not the first time I’ve said that. And it won’t be the last. Fragments of the past embed themselves within renditions of current events; I can see the bitch on her barstool. Just over the counter, the formless dark creature lurks, drumming its fingers noiselessly on the bartop.

 

“I _made_ you, sweetheart. I can touch you wherever I want.” It leans over the counter, grasping the chardonnay bottle in a makeshift shadowy hand, pouring more of that yellowish liquid into her glass. I can smell it from here.

 

How **_embarrassing_**.

 

I’m spinning on my heel and running out the door, tears streaming unbidden down my cheeks: I’ve always been weak like that, crying when I’m angry instead of **_lashing out_**.

 

When I wish for death, it comes, but not for me. Clutching my keys in the middle of the parking lot, I stare wide-eyed at a small group of people illuminated in the headlights of what looks like my dad’s truck.

 

“Dad?!” Running now, nearly flying across the asphalt, but not nearly fast enough. I never was. I throw my body through the meager little crowd, my vision swimming around me as I’m flecked with warm, wet blood. Brought to my knees before the alter of my meaningless suffering—reality. This is my life. Tattered bodies displayed in ever-growing pools of their own gore.

 

I’m alone then, with him. Even he’s not really there. It’s just me, blubbering uselessly and shaking the shell of what I had, bathed in the pitiful light of my fracturing SOUL. I reach to turn him, force myself to see my father’s face just one more time--.

 

It's like he’s been _shredded from the inside_.  

* * *

 

Surfacing from the depths of my own mind is as tumultuous as it always is: I hate every second of it, scraping for each breath, fighting with the scream half-up my throat, clenching my muscles so tightly I’ll surely cramp in seconds. Unfamiliarity throws me even worse this time, but I manage to hang onto the odd color combination in the walls and floor, telling myself I’m supposed to be here. Papyrus and Sans are upstairs. It’s fine. Everything’s okay.

 

As I calm once more, my body begins to register little aches from the day's earlier events, reminders of my presence in the present. Clinging to them for my own sanity, I sit myself up, shuddering as I dully glance in the general direction of the television. I make an effort to at least appear as if I’m watching it. Maybe the illusion will lull me back to sleep.

 

It starts to work, until I hear a creak near the staircase, and I snap my head in that direction warily. Just Sans. Dark blue bags seem to have appeared beneath his eyesockets, and his pupils look fairly dim in the instant between him registering that little noise and then that I’m awake. He gives me a lazed little smile, but a smile nonetheless, and I offer one of my own back, perhaps a little more strained. He continues down the stairs, padding onto the living room floor.

  
“what’re you doing up?” His voice comes soft, gravelly with residual sleep, and my heart gives a quiet little pang to hear it. I can only shrug in response. “yeah, me too… can’t sleep.” Sans’s mouth stretches in a rather big yawn as he flops down on the couch next to me. “want to talk about it?” I shake my head a little. “…me either, really, so i won’t push.”

“…you still owe me Grillby’s.” I point out halfheartedly after a moment of silence between us.

 

“i know, i’m sorry… we could go now if you wanted?” He suggests gently, though with the way we’re both sagging into the couch, I can tell that would be against our better judgment.

 

"No, no, don’t be… Maybe another time. Lunch or something… I’m too tired to move right now.” I roll my shoulders, wincing a little as the aching in my back spikes slightly at the movement before returning to normal.

 

“you feeling okay there, kiddo?” Sans seems to notice in spite of having to close his eyes to endure another yawn.

 

"Yeah, just sore…” I lay back again, curling up a little to give Sans room to stay on the couch with me.

 

“sore-y to hear that, sweetheart. if you’re aching for something, let me know, i’ll go get it for ya.” He chuckles lightly to himself, gingerly pulling my legs on top of his lap and adjusting the blanket so it covers the both of us.

 

"I'm alright... Papyrus won't think anything about seeing us on the couch together?” I shake my head, watching him tiredly.

 

“…ya know, at this point, i think we have bigger things to worry about. paps likes you, and we really don’t have to worry about keeping quiet since the doc’s sorta… out of commission. i guess that’s something good that came out of this.” Sans just shrugs, shutting his eyes like he couldn’t quite care what anyone thought about it in this moment.

 

“So does that make us official?” I mimic him, closing my own eyes and leaning my head back into the pillow.

 

“when have we not been?” Sans chuckles lightly, patting my calf. “but yeah, i suppose you could say we’re bringing our skeletons out of the closet.”

 

“I dunno if it’s considered coming out of the closet if we’re saying we like the other species, Sans. You just wanted to use that pun.”

 

“i always just want to use a pun, babe.” Sans’s voice sounds slightly more gruff, as if he’s about to pass out.

 

“You’re not going to sleep sitting up, are you?” I nudge him gently to rouse him just enough to respond.

 

“doesn’t bother me, i’ll sleep wherever i can actually manage it.” Yawning again, he settles further into the couch.

 

“Alright, well… if you lean over in the middle of the night, don’t worry about it.” Mumbling tiredly, I turn over on my side and nestle my head into the pillow. Sure enough, moments later as I’m about to ease off, I can feel Sans sidle into the space between me and the back of the couch, and I scooch over to give him more room.

 

“if you wanted to cuddle with a skeleton, you could have just asked.” He shakes his head into the pillow, draping his arm over me to keep us both safely on the couch.

 

“That’s no fun though.” Smiling deviously, I snuggle further into him, sighs of contentment emitting from the both of us.

 

We don’t move the rest of the night.

 

We’ll figure it out in the morning.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here, have some mild weirdness with some fluff. 
> 
> Oooooo Reader's recurring nightmares are changing. Shadow-fucker is everywhere. D: Even in ur head o fuq. woopsies connections forming.
> 
> WILL THEY EVER GO TO GRILLBY'S JFC
> 
> Things will continue to get creppyier from here on out basically so chickity check yourself before you rek yourself home dawg.


	20. Geronimo

A high-pitched whining interrupts my blissfully blank dreams, and I crack my eyes open, remaining motionless as I try to discern where it’s coming from. Through my eyelashes, I can just barely make out the shape of Papyrus bent over nearby, facing the couch and cupping his cheeks. Sans’s grasp around my middle tightens as he seems to hear the noise, but elects to ignore it, snuggling subconsciously into my back.

 

“OhmyGoooooood…!” The whine’s source is certainly Papyrus, his voice clearly held as low as he can possibly keep it. I struggle desperately to keep a huge grin off my face, biting the inside of my cheek. After a moment or so, Papyrus quietly sneaks off to the kitchen, clanging softly around in there. Sans huffs a little snort, taking in a larger breath than completely necessary, so I test if he’s awake.

 

“Sounds like your brother approves…” I mumble through the traces of a yawn, turning over to burrow against his chest.

 

“mmhm…” To compensate, Sans rolls onto his back and moves his arm up around my shoulders, allowing me to nestle my head over where his heart would be if he were human. The satisfying thrum of his SOUL seeps through the fabric of his hoodie, a more than ample replacement. “he’s still up too early…” He adds on groggily, pressing his teeth to my forehead before letting his skull fall back against the pillow, leaving behind the slightest of tingly sensations.

 

“Five more minutes.” I snuffle, not bothering to open my eyes.

 

“more like hours…” Sans laughs quietly, trailing his hand over my back a little absently, and it doesn't take long for me to start easing back off again… Until I can feel bone against my nose, and I peer up at him questioningly. He forgoes verbal responses, instead lifting his finger under my chin to tip my face towards his, dragging his hand gingerly to my cheek as his teeth brush against my lips.

 

My mind goes completely blank, shorting out as a result of the cyanide sparks searing across my lips. All I can feel is the nearly unbearable pressure of my SOUL flip-flopping against my sternum, and then Sans pulls away, taking my breath with him. That easygoing chuckle of his washes over me, turning me into slush right there in his grasp. I moan ashamedly, burying my face straight into his hoodie.

 

“hey now… where’d you go?” I shake my head vigorously into his chest; it’s rather bumpy because of his ribs and I regret it a little after doing so. “ya done rattling your bones?” Of course, he notices my uncomfortable discovery, laughing softly. “____, look at me.” Hesitating over my own pitiful pride, I relent eventually, lifting my eyes out of his sweatshirt, but keeping my mouth and nose buried.

 

“What?” I mumble with the lightest touch of frustrated hostility, more inward than anything, for no good reason.

 

“…sweetheart, i’ve wanted to do that since last night, at least. i’d be lying if i said i hadn’t thought about it before. like when you were punning right with the best of ‘em in waffle house.” His grin is proud, and he gives me a little squeeze against him as I bury my face once more as a burning settles firmly in my cheeks.

 

“You’re terrible.”

 

“nah, i’m just a bona fide monster.”

 

“You are definitely that.” I stifle a giggle into his hoodie, fisting my hand in the fabric. Sans heaves a contented sigh, closing his eyes once more, and I follow suit, as if we could sleep the day away.

 

“BROTHER, HUMAN, SURELY YOU DO AIM TO AWAKEN FOR BREAKFAST, CORRECT?!” I jump at Papyrus’s loud voice, nearly falling off the couch with a little yelp as Sans struggles to keep me close while laughing.

 

“we’re getting up, paps, promise.”

 

“Sorry, Papyrus.” I finally manage after regaining my balance, prying Sans’s arm off of me gingerly and standing.

 

“DO NOT APOLOGIZE, ____. I KNOW MY BROTHER’S LAZY ALLURE ACTS LIKE A BLACK HOLE.” Papyrus shoots Sans a small glare, to which his older brother just shrugs.

 

“i can’t help that humans don’t understand the gravity of that situation.”

 

“NYEEEEEEEH, JUST GET IN HERE AND HELP ME WITH THE QUICHE.” Papyrus turns on his heel and storms off into the kitchen again.

 

“You bake?” I couldn’t see Sans doing much beyond nuking some microwavable dinners if Papyrus wasn’t home one night or something similar. Which is kind of what I do on a daily basis usually. In response, Sans holds up two phalanges held very close together.

 

“about this much. especially breakfast stuff, because it helps me get back to sleep. it’s a quiche of cake.” He grins lazily. “you can lay back down or do whatever you need to. it’ll be ready in a little.” Drawing himself to his feet with a huge yawn, Sans eventually saunters into the kitchen after Papyrus. In the meantime, I elect to run off to the bathroom to at least attempt to make myself look slightly more presentable, which is difficult without my brush, but I manage to at least pull my unruly hair into a messy bun. After my brief life-or-death struggle in the bathroom, I join Sans and Papyrus in the kitchen, and I’m immediately pulled into a gently smothering hug.

 

“YOU AND SANS ARE BOTH IN TIMEOUT FOR NOT TELLING ME SOONER, BUT I WILL FORGIVE YOU, ____.”

 

“Thanks, P-papyrus…!” I wheeze out a little laugh as he deposits me in one of the chairs at the kitchen table. I glance over to Sans, who has been relegated to one corner of the kitchen with a sticky note labeled ‘BAD INFLUENCE’, and I can’t stop from sniggering, causing Sans to do the same.

 

“NYEH, NO LAUGHING IN TIMEOUT.” Papyrus scolds us, and I hold my hands up apologetically.

 

“Sorry, sorry!” Papyrus scoots into his seat at the table, examining a newspaper before him. “…what’re you reading, Papyrus?” He seems enthralled, so of course I want to know what’s so great about the paper.

 

“THE JUNIOR JUMBLE THIS MORNING IS QUITE DIFFICULT. NYOO HOO.” Papyrus rubs his eyes, then takes up staring once more. I scoot over, assuming Sans is serving the timeout really for the both of us, and peer at the paper from under Papyrus’s arm.

 

“You’ve got one right there...” I lean over and trace the location of the word I’ve found from the list. I’m unsure of why Papyrus finds the puzzle difficult, until he tilts his head at it.

 

“I AM UNSURE, HUMAN, THIS LOOKS LIKE ‘FRAUB’ NOT… OH, THERE IT IS!” Papyrus happily goes about circling the word, and I realize why he likes for Sans to read to him. The letters must jumble in his mind. Of course Junior Jumble would be difficult for him.

 

“Want any help?” At the same time, I don’t want to interfere with his independence. It’s not my place unless he asks for me to be there.

 

“ACTUALLY, I WOULD REMOVE YOU FROM TIMEOUT IF YOU WOULD TEND TO THE QUICHE.” I nod sweetly, leaving Papyrus to his Junior Jumble and observing the pastry. Moments later, I deposit the dish on a potholder in the middle of the kitchen table with a knife and small spatula. “BROTHER, YOU MAY STEP AWAY FROM TIMEOUT FOR THE MOMENT SO THAT YOU MAY EAT.” 

 

“gee, thanks paps.” Sans rolls his eyes, turning and settling in his designated seat. I follow suit, and we allow Papyrus to serve himself before us, paying our dues. Afterwards, Sans cuts a heaping helping of the quiche away for me, settling it on my plate. “let me know what ya think. i don’t cook all that much, but i’d still like to know if it’s edible.” He jokes as he slices a piece for himself.

 

“Well, I’m no food critic, but I’ll let you know if it’s terrible.” I carve my fork into the pastry; it’s already looking very promising as the cheese strings from fork to quiche. Pulling the bite to my lips, I blow on it to cool it down a bit before giving it a shot. “Hooooooooh my god…” Slurring over the deliciously gooey cheese and the illusion of health in the spinach, I shut my eyes and melt into my chair. “Where’d you learn how to do that?”

 

“heh… from toriel actually. i’ve always kind of had a thing for baking though. just not the energy all the time.” Sans smiles sheepishly, his cheeks flushing cobalt, and I instantly backpedal.

 

“Oh, oh crap, sorry...!” I wave my hands innocently, then immediately smack myself in the forehead.

 

“nah, kiddo, don’t worry about it. it was knife while it lasted, but snail pie isn’t my jam.”

 

“PUNNING AT THE TABLE, SANS!” Papyrus snaps, wagging his finger across the table in Sans’s face, causing him to laugh.

 

“Snail pie?” I cock my head to the side, repeating the phrase to ensure I’ve heard it correctly.

 

“you don’t wanna know.” With that, I dig hurriedly back into the quiche before I can think too hard on it. “whatcha got on your plate other than quiche, bro?”

 

“PRACTICE WITH UNDYNE LATER, BUT GUARD DUTY BEFOREHAND.” Papyrus narrows his eyesockets at Sans slightly at the pun, to which Sans simply shrugs.

 

“What do you guard, Papyrus?” I deflect the brothers from each other, rolling my eyes at their bickering.

 

“THE NEW BARRIER, TO ENSURE KING ASGORE REMAINS IN THE UNDERGROUND AND THAT NO MORE HUMANS FALL INTO IT.” Papyrus’s voice is a mixture of unsure pride. Clearly he’s happy he’s been dealt this responsibility, however, I realize it’s likely he knew the king. Maybe even fairly well. It has to be somewhat difficult for him.

 

“Well, I’m glad you’re there so I don’t have to worry about accidentally wandering down there, you know?” I smile as I mention it, hoping to get a positive response out of Papyrus. And I do, but out of the corner of my eye, I can see Sans squeeze his fork so tightly that it bends.

 

“I WILL OF COURSE CONTINUE TO MAKE SURE YOU FEEL SAFE, ____.” While Papyrus puffs up his chest rather proudly and gazes into the distance as if he’s outdoors, I cast a quick glance of confusion Sans’s way. He doesn’t make eye-contact, instead electing to attempt to fix the fork. Before I can wrangle a chance to ask him what’s bothering him, my phone pings rather urgently, indicating I’ve received an important email. Sighing heavily, I open it at the table.

 

 

_From: univ.president@meu.edu_

_To: xxxxxx.xxxx@meu.edu, dr.alphys@meu.edu_

_Subject: Dr. Abernathy_

_Good morning,_

_I wanted to update the both of you on Dr. Abernathy’s condition. He is stable at Mt. Ebott Memorial Hospital, but the medical team has unfortunately been unable to bring him out of his coma. They suggest that the coma is actually a good thing to help him recover, but we’ll have to see how long it lasts to determine what our long-term plan will be._

_Effectively immediately, the SOUL project, along with all other experiments in the monster studies department are suspended. I hope you’ll understand our reasoning behind this decision. ____, you are to assist Dr. Alphys as her TA for the time being. No other changes are necessary, as we all hope that this will be a short-lived issue. Please contact me if either of you have any questions._

_Regards,_

_Office of the President_

“Well, there it is…” I heave a little sigh, sliding my phone over to Sans for him to read. In the time I’ve spent on the email, Papyrus has apparently grown bored with sitting and eating, and has moved onto cleaning up the mess since we’re apparently out of time-out now.

 

“he won’t wake back up. they’re wasting their breath on that…” Sans runs his finger over the crack in my phone’s screen before passing it back to me.

 

“Shit… what the hell am I going to do?” I lean forward into my hands, letting the phone just sit on the table before me. It almost instantly lights up with a text from Alphys.

 

 

_Alphys (8:46AM)_

_jdlkajfkdajf_

_-this is ridiculous._

_\--No._

“is she mad?” Sans peeks back over at my phone, nodding when I flip it around to make it easier for him to read instead of struggling with it upside down.

 

 

_Alphys (8:47AM)_

_WHAT AM I SUPPOSED TO DO_

_-What are WE supposed to do_

_\--We have APPOINTMENTS to keep, do these people not understand how hard it is to collect a sample?!?!?!?!_

“I don’t know what to tell her…” I admit sadly, spinning the phone on the table as I attempt to come up with a text, letting her continue to rant.

 

 

_Alphys (8:48AM)_

_wait_

_-I have an idea._

“tell her i’ve already had the idea.” Skepticism causes one of my eyebrows to quirk up, and I give him a very analytical expression.

 

“What do you mean?”

 

“tell her and i’ll explain.” I hesitate for a long moment before doing as he asks, already not feeling spectacular about whatever he has in mind.

 

 

_xxx-xxx-xxxx (8:49AM)_

_Sans told me to tell you he’s already had the idea. Whatever the fuck that means._

_-I s2g if this is what I think it is._

_Alphys (8:49AM)_

_Um…_

_-It probs is what you think it is._

_xxx-xxx-xxxx (8:50AM)_

_Let me talk to him about this elusive “it”._

“my idea is to go back to the underground to get the doc’s SOUL back.” Sans stuffs his hands in his pockets as if he isn’t quite bothered, but I know better than to believe that.

 

“Sans…” My gaze hardens automatically, my suspicions unluckily confirmed.

 

“sweetheart.” He echoes me, smiling rather wryly across the space. I won’t win this argument.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My headcanon as to why Paps likes for Sans to read to him is because he's dyslexic. That's just my humble opinion. Paps is obviously intelligent imo, so the only reason I could think for it would be a disorder such as dyslexia. It's fairly common if you've never heard of it (my mom's never been diagnosed, but should have been a loooong time ago), and causes people to flip letters (like "b" and "d", etc), in general making it difficult to read. 
> 
> I'd like to apologize as well for taking so long on this chapter, but I got a new job! I've been insanely busy for the last forever getting together paperwork, etc, and I just started on Monday. My sleep schedule's a wreck because of it, but I'm slowly getting used to the change. Since I didn't write this chapter in one spurt, I'm a bit concerned about the state of it, but I feel like you guys deserve some kind of update. :3 *kissy kissy* 
> 
> shit will be spiraling in the downward direction asap. mentally prepare your damn selves. 
> 
> I'm also currently working on a teeny little very violent one-shot that'll be loosely connected with this story, but with enough separation that it can stand on it's own. So, I'll let you know where to find that once I finish with it. 
> 
> Thank you for reading! I hope you enjoy!


	21. Hide and Seek

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry it took me so much time to write this dang chapter, guys. I've had a busy week... So many ups and downs, it's hard to find a lot of time to write between them. Like I went to Universal Orlando for the weekend, then I dealt with a lot of issues with my new job, then both of my dogs started throwing up and pooping blood, so we were really worried they'd been poisoned... Really still dealing with that, one of them got it worse than the other, whatever it was. Going to be working 6-7 days a week for the next couple weeks until my employment ends with my previous job. So we'll see how quickly I can get the next chapter out, now that I've written this one. Maybe I can crank it out this weekend, along with the one-shot I've been planning. We'll see what happens. 
> 
> Anyway, enough about my dumb problems. Hope you guys enjoy this chapter!

“Are you sure about this…?” I rock back and forth on my heels at the very edge of town, as far as Sans would let me go on his journey with him.

 

“no.” He chuckles drolly, stuffing his hands in his hoodie pockets. “but it’s been a week, and you and i both know the doc isn’t waking up any time soon without his SOUL so…” Sans shrugs, shutting his eyes as he smiles. “i gotta go, sweetheart.”

 

“Yeah…” I scuff my shoes on the concrete sidewalk beneath my feet, sighing softly. After a week of nearly perfect bliss, I’d be losing him for who-knows-how-long. “You’re going to keep in touch, right?” This must be the fifteen-hundredth time I’ve asked.

 

“of course, sweetheart.” Sans answers the same as he always has, removing one hand from his pocket to take my hand, bringing it to his teeth. A sweet shudder rolls right down my spine as cyan sparks zip across my skin; and as he begins to pull away, the little lights follow, igniting the typically invisible thread between us in electric color. That thread tightens, tugging us right together, to the point where our noses nearly knock right into each other.

 

“H-holy crap…” Grasping onto Sans’s arms for balance, I reel in the soft blue light emitting from his cheeks.

 

“ew.” He laughs softly, leaning in and pecking my lips with his teeth. I balk at him for making fun of my dazed response, deciding immediately to get back at him for it. Twisting my hand out of his hold, I cup the hard sides of his face with as much delicacy as possible, drawing myself up onto my tip-toes to gain the slightest height advantage. Sans’s eyesockets nearly gutter out completely, and I freeze for the slightest instant as his breath catches anxiously in his throat. Those alluring white lights return, and he blinks himself out of whatever trance he’d entered.

 

“You okay…?” I brush my thumbs over his cheekbones, admittedly worried about that little lapse, not bothering to hide it.

 

“y-yeah. yeah. just… sorry, continue.” Sans waves me forward lackadaisically, his cerulean blush betraying him. I bring his mouth against mine, kissing him strongly, teetering forward on my toes until his arms encircle my back to steady me. Kissing him is different, cool and stony for a brief moment as his magic ignites against my lips. The drastic temperature shift is intoxicating; I can’t help but love it. He doesn’t let us stay that way for long, grasping the thread connecting us to pull me down into a dip, peppering my throat with toothy kisses.

 

“Sans!” Giggling aloud, I push on his forehead in a feeble attempt to make him stop, which only makes it worse. He allows me to squirm for a few more moments before righting me again just as the sound of footsteps cuts through the underbrush before us.

 

“YOUR BRILLIANT ESCORT HAS ARRIVED, BROTHER.” Papyrus appears only seconds later, flipping his scarf over his shoulder majestically.

 

“the only one i’d ever want.” Sans smiles up at his brother, for once simply complimenting him as opposed to covering it up with a pun. I swallow at the lump that’s somehow formed in my throat, unable to force it down.

  
“ARE YOU READY TO GO, SANS?” He shoulders Sans’s backpack for him, seemingly testing the weight to ensure Sans has packed everything he needs.

 

“i think so.” A wry smile cracks across Sans’s face as he meets my gaze, and I force myself to return it in spite of my nerves.

 

“Sans.” As Sans opens his mouth to speak again, one matronly voice eeks through first. I turn as a blur of purple and brown rushes by and launches into Sans, who catches them with a little chuckle, finding myself face-to-face (more like face-to-chest) with Toriel. “Papyrus.”

 

“heya, kiddo!” Sans spins Frisk briefly before settling them down, signing to them. Frisk waves excitedly to both Papyrus and I before falling into quick conversation with the two bone brothers. Out of the corner of my eye, I can recognize some of the phrases exchanged between them, specifically “don’t worry.”

 

“Hi Toriel…” I cast her a kind smile, which she seems to return a little halfheartedly. Since we’ve stopped being careful, it’s likely word has gotten around to her.

 

“Good morning, ____. I trust you’re doing well.” Her voice remains gentle and level.

 

“I am.” I nod a little, folding my arms over my chest. “You and Frisk seem to be good too.” I wince at my terrible verbal skills comparatively.

 

“We are… If you don’t have any appointments this afternoon, we’d be happy if you came over once Sans is gone.” I blink briefly in a little surprise at the offer, unsure as to why she’d invite me into her home based on the circumstances.

 

“I, um… sure. Yes, I’d like to.” I don’t know what else to do other than accept, but receiving a thumbs-up from Frisk makes me feel slightly better.

 

“Wonderful, you can come with us.” I nod to signal her that I’ve heard her, watching Sans break apart from Frisk and look to Toriel.

 

“goat to get goating, tori. see ya soon?” Sans’s grin spreads wide, and Toriel laughs all bubbly.

 

“Of course, Sans. Soon.” She smiles kindly back at him, though it fades slightly when Sans directs his attention to me.

 

“i’ll text you, sweetheart.” He reminds me before I can ask the question, and I grin a little amusedly.

 

“You better.”

 

“I WILL SEE YOU LATER TONIGHT, ____.” Papyrus reassures me of the plans we’d set in place, “just in case” according to Sans.

 

“Sounds good, Paps. Bring some spaghetti, okay?” Papyrus immediately stands at attention, saluting me.

 

“YOU CAN COUNT ON ME.” I laugh briefly at his dedication.

 

“I know… We’ll see you guys…”

 

It seems to take Sans a few seconds to compose himself before he turns, Papyrus falling into step with him as they begin to make their way through the forest in the direction of the barrier. The tension in my chest tightens with each step he takes away from me, and I wonder if he feels the same thing as I press my hand over the aching spot beneath my ribs. Once they’re no longer visible, Toriel redirects her attention onto me.

 

“Are you ready to go?”

 

“I think so…” Standing here any longer won’t bring Sans back. Might as well get moving.

 

 

* * *

 

 

“ _Tea?_ ” Frisk has reduced some of their signs to the simplest sentences or queries, allowing me a little time to think about my response as well. I’m grateful; I’ve only been popping in on some of Toriel’s classes for a month now, so I’m not too adept with signing yet.

 

 _“Please.”_ I answer a little clunkily, wincing. Frisk smiles encouragingly though, nodding and running to get tea started on the stove. In the meantime, Toriel returns from the long hallways extending off the living room with a large leather-bound book in hand. She places it on the table before us as she settles down beside me and smiles, revealing her fangs.

 

“I see you’ve been working on your sign language. It’s certainly better than where you started.”

 

“Thank you, Toriel… wouldn’t have without your help.” I smile lightly back, kneading my hands in my lap.

 

“I honestly didn’t start learning myself until Frisk here came along.” She laughs softly, the sound almost like the tinkling of a bell despite her sheer size.

 

“Was Frisk always mute…?” The question slips out, and I clap my hand over my mouth just after, mentally scolding myself for being so obtuse. Toriel doesn’t seem bothered however, simply shaking her head.

  
“They’ve told me they weren’t always… they’ve never given me the details, however.” She smiles sadly.

 

“Did it happen before they came to you…?” Since she seems alright with speaking about it, I go ahead and allow my curiosity to carry me away, too nervous to bring up another subject.

 

“Yes, as far as I know.” Toriel nods, smiling sweetly to Frisk when they return to the living room with three mugs of tea.

 

 _“Thank you.”_ My sign elicits an adorable grin from Frisk, who settles down in what’s clearly their designated red beanbag chair. I pick up my mug, holding it to my lips and taking a quick sip, instantly overwhelmed with a strong floral flavor. It sends a short little shiver right through me, and I settle the mug against my lap, knowing full well I won’t drink it all, but I’ll at least appear to appreciate it.

 

“So, as you know, I didn’t just invite you into my home for tea…” Toriel comes around to what I assume may be the point, and I straighten my back.

 

“I didn’t think so…” I laugh a little wryly, rubbing at my shoulder nervously.

 

“No…” She opens the book, the parchment crackling as the too-tight spine gives to her efforts. I instantly tense at the sight of the image displayed on the page she’s turned to. “Sans has discussed with me some of what he believes may be going on since the last… incident.” I know it’s rude not to make eye contact while someone’s speaking, but I can’t make myself look away from the figure painstakingly inked onto the page. A man, darker than dark, extraordinarily tall even on the page, white hands outstretched in welcome to the reader. A date seems to be inscribed below the figure, but for the life of me, I can’t make my brain process the information.

 

“Who is that?” I finally force words from my mouth, finally manage to break my line of sight with the page. It’s a struggle not to look back down at it.

 

“The former royal scientist before Dr. Alphys. This is Dr. Gtsrae.” My ears feel clogged with water, and I shake my head to try to get them to unplug. Frisk looks over their shoulder at me, and I avoid their eyes, averting my gaze back to Toriel. Her expression seems to have gone blank, and she shuts the book, standing and going back down the hallway with the book in hand. I furrow my eyebrows, brain feeling a bit fuzzy, and I scratch my head in uncertainty.

 

 _“You okay?”_ Frisk takes their mother’s seat, waving their hand in front of my face just after the sign as if to snap me out of whatever funk I’ve fallen into.

 

 _“Yes. Your mom?”_ I can barely remember what I’d meant to say, blinking in frustration. Frisk takes the mug in my lap, pushing it to my face, practically forcing me to drink. So I do, taking a sip, the obnoxiously floral flavor bringing me back into clarity. Frisk stands, giving me a little smile and going down the hall with Toriel’s mug in hand.  


I bury my head in my hands, massaging my temples briefly. What _was_ that? Just as I’m beginning to wonder, my phone lights up, displaying a text from Sans.

 

 

_Sans (11:06AM)_

_heya, sweetheart. just wanted to let you know i made it underground alright._

_xxx-xxx-xxxx (11:07AM)_

_Okay, good. When do you think you’ll be back?_

_Sans (11:07AM)_

_as soon as i can. sorry i can’t make any promises._

_xxx-xxx-xxxx (11:08AM)_

_No, it’s okay._

_Sans (11:09AM)_

_you doing alright?_

I think about that before answering.

 

 

_xxx-xxx-xxxx (11:10AM)_

_Yeah. I’m good._


	22. Lonely Digging

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just as I thought, this chapter took a while to write. I'm on my 4th day of work, had 6 last week, so only one off where I really had time to write. This week, I haven't been able to really take any time to write. I'll have to work Sunday too, and believe me I'm not happy about it. I'm furious, in fact. It wasn't supposed to be that way, and I'm getting screwed over. I apologize that you're all having to wait a while for chapters as a result. Don't fret though, I still have plenty of interest and plans for this fic, and this shouldn't last forever... sigh. I'd really like if it ended this weekend, personally, but I have a shitty feeling it'll probably continue through next week too. 
> 
> In between writing this chapter and the last, I wrote a one-shot that's loosely connected to this fic, entitled Paper Sun, about Frisk and Sans. It's basically a little headcanon exploration on Frisk, and it's the one I'm using in this story. So as not to spoil it, I won't say much else. But if you like getting dunked on, check out Paper Sun here: http://archiveofourown.org/works/6724012
> 
> As always, I hope you enjoy!

Mid-afternoon finds me proctoring Alphys’s monster studies midterm, perusing the lecture hall for any sign of academic dishonesty from the students. Most of their heads are buried in their test packets, pencils scribbling furiously over the paper. I’ve had them remove their hats, tuck their water bottles under their seats, push up their sleeves, anything I could possibly think of that they could use to cheat with. After making a show of how they could be automatically failed for academic dishonesty, I don’t think they’ll tempt fate, but it’s better to be safe than sorry when it comes to college kids. I’m not about to lose my tenuous grip on my job just for them. One of the students raises their hand, and I mill over to take their question, bending over to listen to what they have to say.

 

“This question’s got two of the same answers…” They guide their pencil to the item, indicating the two answers, which both happen to be correct. Sighing, I nod.

 

“Thanks, I’ll address that.” I pace up to the front of the classroom, picking up a dry-erase marker. “Hey, everyone. Just for a second. On question 24, there are two correct answers, so just bubble in A for that one, okay? You guys get 2 free points, so enjoy them.” A few people grin and hunch back over their tests, the rest simply carrying on in silence. I write up on the board “24. A”, accompanying two other questions that’d been messed up in one way or another. It’s odd, typically Alphys is very meticulous about her test-making. Mentally, I attribute it to her seemingly increasing anxiety since last week’s incident in the lab.

 

I take a seat in what would normally be her chair on test-days, watching the students work from afar as the first of many begin to rise to turn in their tests. I hold my hand out for the first one’s test, placing it on the table face-down in front of me to indicate to the rest of the students what they should do with their test when they approach. Sure enough, more than one stares uncomprehendingly at the table upon their arrival, and I supplement them with a pat over the stack of papers that have formed. Must’ve been a hard test, even with some of the answers I’ve given them.

 

As the last of the college kids begin to trickle out of the lecture hall, I stand to gather the tests into my bag, pulling my phone from my pocket and shooting Alphys a quick text.

 

_xxx-xxx-xxxx (3:15PM)_

_Hey, just wanted to let you know the kiddies are all done with their torture—I mean test._

I take the last few tests from the stragglers with a smile, shouldering my backpack and giving the lecture hall a once-over before heading out, checking my phone on the way. My brows furrow; she’s usually quick to answer.

 

 

_xxx-xxx-xxxx (3:25PM)_

_You doing okay? I can get these graded for you, if you want._

_Alphys (3:27PM)_

_Hey, yeah sorry. That’d be great. I’ll email you the key in a little._

_xxx-xxx-xxxx (3:27PM)_

_Okay. Let me know if I can do anything else for you._

The outside air is heavy with excessive heat trapped beneath the thick blanket of slate-grey clouds draped over the town. They bear with them the promise of rain during the evening, and I’m abruptly thankful Papyrus insisted on picking me up later instead of letting me ride my bike. With nothing left to do but wait for the test key and the slick red convertible, I decide to kill some time in Toriel’s ASL course. Without Sans actually present, the days seem to pass more slowly, as if time itself is drawing to a standstill, lengthening the distance of time we have to spend apart.

 

I enter the classroom a little late, but Toriel has yet to begin her lecture. I scoot into the desk I usually occupy in the back of the room. Frisk inhabits the desk directly next to mine whenever I come to her class in this timeframe; their day at the high school is over, and they’re just waiting on Toriel to finish work. As a result, I prefer attending this lecture as opposed to her two other early morning classes. Frisk grins and waves at me before getting back to their schoolwork, and I return both the smile and the gesture, settling my bag quietly on the floor and looking up to the front of the room.

 

 _“Good afternoon, class.”_ She signs to the small group of students she has for this course.

 

 _“Good afternoon, teacher.”_ The students actually enrolled echo her sign, and I follow suit, sitting back in my chair as Toriel launches into a brief lesson on the history of ASL. I glance over at Frisk, catching their eye before signing.

 

 _“How’s mom today?”_ I inquire, careful not to be too exaggerated in my movements so as not to draw her attention.

 

 _“Better. She still had a headache this morning.”_ Frisk replies as a slightly more worried expression crosses their face.

 

_“Yeah, that was the weirdest thing, I did too. Did you see what happened or did we both maybe eat something…?”_

_“She might have snuck a snail or two in the pastries at home…”_ They supply with a little shrug. _“They could’ve been rotten or something.”_ I can feel myself blanch at the mere thought; Sans wasn’t kidding when he’d mentioned snail pie. _“It’s just like escargot! Don’t puke, if that’s what you’re thinking about doing!”_ It takes me a moment to steady myself, watching Toriel teach without actually taking in any of the information she’s presenting.

 

 _“You’re sure that’s what it was?”_ Something just doesn’t quite sit right with me about the conversation, and it isn’t just the possibility that I’ve ingested snails.

 

 _“Probably.”_ Frisk merely shrugs, leaning back over their assignment and effectively ending the conversation. As Toriel begins to transition into the next topic, I check my phone discreetly, frowning at the lack of messages. From anyone.

 

“Now class, if you’ll all find a partner, let’s go through some exercises.” I settle my phone to the side, looking over at Frisk.

 

 _“Be my partner again?”_ Frisk simply smiles, nodding and settling their pencil down and committing their attention to me.

 

“We’re going to ask each other where we’re from. Go ahead when you’re ready.” Toriel leans back against her desk at the front of the room, observing the classroom.

 

 _“We’re supposed to ask each other where we’re from.”_ I translate for them, and they nod, smiling.

 

 _“You’re getting a lot better at this. Where’re you from?”_ Frisk begins, their grin widening.

 

 _“I’m from Green Ridge, a little town about 45 minutes from here.”_ I explain, then ask the same of Frisk. _“Where are you from?”_

 

 _“I think I’m from here, in Little Ebott.”_ They roll their shoulders lightly. _“I actually don’t remember much since before I fell into the Underground.”_

“Jeez, Frisk. I’m sorry…” I can’t help but actually say the words, unsure of what else to do. The knowledge is a little shocking for me; I’d always assumed the ambassador had some kind of politically-involved parents since they’re so adept in their position.

_“It’s fine. I’m pretty sure my life wasn’t worth remembering before that anyway.”_ I recognize the cynicism in their quirked up little smile, and I feel a small pang of guilt. I really don’t know all that much about this kid, do I?

 

 _“You’re doing better now though, right?”_ Their smile becomes quite a bit more genuine, which is comforting.

 

_“Of course.”_

 

“You’re doing spectacularly, ____.” Toriel has made her rounds to the two of us, nodding kindly.

 

“Thank you, Toriel. Being able to talk to Frisk really helps... thank you for letting me pop in on your course occasionally too, I really appreciate it.” I feel the need to smooth things over after how weird that night was. It was like we’d both completely forgotten why we were there after that journal came out. Thinking about it creates a little throb on the inside of my skull, and it appears to do the same with Toriel. She winces slightly before waving me off.

 

“Nonsense, it’s my pleasure. I’m about to give them a quiz, so if you’d like to head on home, you’re welcome to.”

 

“Thanks, Toriel. I’ll see you tomorrow?” I grin before gathering my things, standing up.

 

“I certainly hope so.” She nods, pacing down another row of desks to observe the rest of the students in their conversations.

 

 _“Bye Frisk.”_ I turn back to wave at them.

 

 _“Bye ____.”_ With that, I make my way to the front of the classroom and out the door just as Toriel announces her quiz, a chorus of “awwws” following me out. A little buzz against my side indicates that I’ve finally received a text, and I open my phone to read what it has to say.

 

 

_Papyrus (4:43PM)_

_____, I have arrived outside and I am waiting on your arrival!_

_xxx-xxx-xxxx (4:44PM)_

_Thanks Paps! I’ll be right out._

As I’m walking out, I check my email on my phone for any update on Dr. Abernathy. Nothing. Which is neither good nor bad, I suppose. I shove the front door of the building open, looking up as the first very fat raindrops begin to fall out of the clouds above. I can hear Papyrus gasp in dismay from the front seat of his convertible, and I break into a run to hop inside the car just as he gets the hood completely pulled up.

 

“NYEH! I ABSOLUTELY DESPISE THIS WEATHER!” Papyrus slumps a little over the steering wheel, and I can’t help but laugh a little at how worked up he’s gotten.

 

“Sorry, Paps, I know the whole point of a convertible is to have the top down.”

 

“PRECISELY!” He agrees with a little hum, putting the car in drive and flipping on the windshield wipers. The rhythmic _thud—th-thunk_ of the wiper blades along with the heavy pattering of the rain accompanies our conversation, and I find myself leaning back against the headrest comfortably. “HOW WAS YOUR DAY _____?”

 

“It was alright. How about yours, Paps?”

 

“GOOD AS ALWAYS. NO DISTURBANCES.” Papyrus reports pleasantly, nodding to himself.

 

“That’s good. Did you hear from Sans at all?”

 

“I DID. THE CELL SERVICE IS NOT SO GREAT IN THE AREA HE WAS IN EARLIER THIS MORNING, BUT HE DID TELL ME TO LET YOU KNOW HE WOULD CONTACT YOU TONIGHT.” I grin a little sheepishly, nodding.

 

“Thanks, Paps, that makes me feel better.” Papyrus grins brightly, nearly bouncing in his seat.

 

“ABSOLUTELY NO PROBLEM, HUMAN! NOW, HE ALSO REQUESTED THAT YOU CONTINUE TO STAY AT OUR HOUSE, SO DO YOU NEED ANY CLOTHING FROM YOUR DORM AT THIS TIME?”

 

“Not tonight, I don’t think, but I probably will tomorrow… Oh! You know what, can we actually stop by? I need to grab something.” My mind changes tracks from clothes to other items I might need, and I pull my raincoat from my bag in preparation to run into the dorm.

 

“OF COURSE!” Papyrus changes course, driving us through the sloshy roads around campus. It takes us a little over a minute to pull into the parking lot. “WOULD YOU LIKE ANY HELP?”

 

“Only if you want, Paps, I don’t want to make you get out. I should be really quick…” I hedge a little, not wanting to force him to help me out. I feel like he’s already doing too much by letting me stay with him, even if it is at Sans’s insistence.

 

“HOW ABOUT YOU TEXT ME IF YOU THINK YOU NEED MY HELP?” He suggests, and I instantly agree.

 

“Sounds good!”

 

Papyrus pulls up to the front of the building, letting me out as close to the nearest entrance as possible. I dash beneath cover, unlocking the door with my key and shoving inside, looking around and pulling the hood of my raincoat down. The entryway is oddly quiet and empty; typically there’s at least one person hanging out in the lobby waiting on someone. Shrugging, I take the stairs up to my room, unlocking that door and looking around. My phone abruptly goes off again while I’m surveying my things.

 

 

_Undyne (5:01PM)_

_Hey, have you seen Alphys today?_

_-She’s not answering her phone._

_xxx-xxx-xxxx (5:01PM)_

_I haven’t, but I talked to her earlier today._

_-She seems pretty stressed so I offered to grade these tests for her._

_\--Let me check something real fast._

I pull up my email account on my phone once again, finding the test key in my inbox, listed as from Alphys just a few minutes ago.

 

_xxx-xxx-xxxx (5:02PM)_

_\---She just sent me the key I’m supposed to use._

Retrieving a bag from my closet, I quickly begin to pack some extra clothes since I’m here anyway, followed by my laptop and various chargers, finding my cell phone too low on battery for my liking. I gather a few movies I think Papyrus may like, then make sure to grab the indigo pansies Sans gave me. They’re hardy little buggers, and have survived in spite of what I’d thought was a lack of a green thumb on my part, but maybe just maybe I won’t kill them. Or maybe they’ve been magically altered. Regardless, I ensure I’ve got them tucked carefully in one arm, shouldering the overnight bag and hurrying out of my room, locking the door behind me.

 

The light at the end of the hallway near the stairs flickers oddly, discomfort curling in my belly. I look down at my phone, moving for the elevators as much as I don’t want to.

 

 

_Undyne (5:05PM)_

_Okay. Maybe she’s just busy._

_xxx-xxx-xxxx (5:15PM)_

_Let me know when you get ahold of her._

 

I mash the ‘down’ button for the elevator, texting Papyrus to let him know I’m on the way down, then pocketing my phone to wait on the lift. Seconds later and with absolutely no warning, a loud crack of lightning splits the skies just outside the window; I can see it connect with the transformer on the powerline. The lights in the form cut out completely as thunder echoes with such force the windows rattle, plunging me into darkness. Almost instantly, another text from Papyrus comes in.

 

 

_Papyrus (5:16PM)_

_Are you alright??!_

_xxx-xxx-xxxx (5:17PM)_

_I’m okay! I’ll just run down the stairs._

Left with no other option, I readjust the bag on my shoulder and turn to take the stairs, gripping the flowerpot close to me. It’s a familiar path, and I’m comfortable until I open up the door to the stairwell, finding it completely pitch black as a result of the lack of windows. Steeling myself, of course there isn't anything down there, I activate the flashlight application on my phone and begin making my way down the steps. Blood rushes behind my ears, a little too loudly, my heartbeat’s a little too obvious. I feel like I’m out in the open, even though I’m tunneled into the stairwell. Tendrils of darkness seem to flick in and out of sight within the beam of my flashlight, but no matter how quick I am on the draw, I can’t catch sight of whatever my mind thinks is here with me. Surely it’s just my imagination. I’m just tired. I’m just scared of the dark. Like a kid.

  
I clear my throat, reaching the bottom of the staircase and pushing. The door refuses to move. Icy claws of anxiety drag down my neck and into my chest; I struggle to stay calm as I push on the door again, feeling a slight give. Is it locked? A shiver rolls up my body, almost like a puff of cool air against my neck; I throw my weight against the door as hard as I can, a prickling sensation at my spine, don’t turn around don’t turn around don’t turn around.

 

“____?! WHERE ARE YOU?” Papyrus, I can hear him just outside the door!

 

“In here, Papyrus, please!” It’s a struggle not to sound like I’m screaming, the light from my phone wavering as my hand shakes. No reply. I kick at the door, yelling again. “PAPYRUS!” Abruptly, the door swings open, and I nearly fall out of it, running nose-first into Papyrus’s very bony chest.

 

“THERE YOU ARE, HUMAN! YOU WORRIED ME!” Papyrus instantly relieves me of my bag, ushering me out the front door of the dorm. Finally feeling safe, I risk a glance behind me, unable to catch a glimpse of anything through Papyrus. Perhaps that’s for the best. I’m whisked away through the rain in his red convertible before I can see anything else, hugging my flowerpot close.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> lite spoopening to be followed most likely by a little fluff I think. You'll have to wait and see lmfao. 
> 
> The Genocide!Frisk and Sans one-shot (completely platonic) I wrote can be found here: http://archiveofourown.org/works/6724012
> 
> Thank you guys so much as always for reading and for your patience. Trust me, this shit is driving me just as crazy as you.


	23. Space

Without Sans to share dinner with us, Papyrus and I elect to eat our spaghetti in the comfort of the living room. Splayed out on the couch with all the test papers around me, I cradle my bowl in my lap, leaning back in relative contentment. I’ve introduced Papyrus to evening-Food-Network shows, a _Chopped_ marathon currently in the works. He’s been enthralled since the beginning, and if I’ve never seen the episode, we guess who’s going to win.

 

“HAVE YOU SEEN THIS ONE?!” Papyrus glances over at me as the contestants are introduced. I instantly recognize one of the chefs and nod, twirling myself a bite of pasta.

 

“Uh-huh. You can still guess though, Paps. I won’t tell you who wins, I’ll just let you know if you guessed right.” I wipe at my mouth with my hand a little lazily, licking the sauce off my thumb when I’m sure Papyrus isn’t looking.

 

“VERY WELL. I WILL GUESS THE VERY NICE HOME COOK MAN DEFEATS THE MEAN LADY CHEF.” Papyrus leans forward, balancing his elbows on his knees and eating more furiously. That appears to be his only fault; he believes the nicest person always wins. In this case, he’s correct.

 

“We’ll see if he serves up a victory.” I can’t help but grin as Papyrus groans loudly, putting his bowl down on the coffee table before him.

 

“I SWEAR IT’S LIKE SANS IS STILL HERE.” Laughing, I stand up, making my way toward the kitchen.

 

“Want me to take your plate over since I’ve seen this one already?” I’m partially trying to make amends for my japes.

 

“SURE, THANK YOU, ____.” Lucky for me, Papyrus is an incredibly forgiving soul, handing me his bowl before the commercial break ends. I take his plate on back to the kitchen with mine, going ahead and cleaning up the other dishes as well, confining the leftovers in tupperware for lunch. A smile quirks up my lips, hearing Papyrus exclaim over the course of the show in relief that his chosen contestant has survived the appetizer and entrée rounds. By the time I return, the final two contestants, the ‘nice home cook man’ and the ‘mean lady chef’ are opening up their dessert round baskets, and Papyrus is locked in on the TV screen. I stifle a giggle, covering my mouth as I round the couch to get back to my seat so I don’t interrupt his gaze. Checking my phone once I settle into my seat again, I find a text from Undyne.

 

 

_Undyne (9:24PM)_

_How’s it going, punk?_

_xxx-xxx-xxxx (9:24PM)_

_Pretty good, just watching Chopped with Paps._

_-tbh I think you’d like it if you don’t already watch it._

_Undyne (9:25PM)_

_I can’t._

_-last time I tried watching that Beat Bobby Flay shit I got so fuckin mad._

_\--because no one can beat that motherfucker and all I want to do is crush him._

“NYEEEEEEEH, THIS IS TOO INTENSE! WHY MUST THEY USE COMMERCIAL BREAKS AT EVERY POSSIBLE MOMENT?!” Papyrus moans as the camera cuts away from the entrants’ dishes, getting up from his position. “I HAVE NICE CREAM IN THE FREEZER IF YOU WOULD LIKE ONE.”

 

“Yes, please!” I immediately agree, smiling his way before looking back at my phone.

_xxx-xxx-xxxx (9:26PM)_

_Now I’m going to have to watch Beat Bobby Flay with you lmao._

_-How’s Alphys?_

_Undyne (9:27PM)_

_…_

_-I don’t know tbh. She came home a little after you texted me last and I asked her if work was going okay._

_\--she was really noncommittal and just kind of went to bed after eating one of my protein bars._

_\---I’m not really sure if I should go back there or sleep on the couch, I’m kind of at a loss._

_xxx-xxx-xxxx (9:28PM)_

_I mean, she’s your girlfriend, Undyne._

_-you shouldn’t feel like you can’t sleep in your own bed._

_\--I’d invite you over here if you feel that iffy, but it’s not my place…_

Papyrus returns with two Nice Cream bars of the strawberry-banana variety, passing one to me just as the show starts back up. The both of us hold off on unwrapping our treats until the episode ends. It’s revealed that the ‘mean lady chef’ has been chopped for her awful rendition of apple pie, and Papyrus leaps to his feet, giving a whoop.

 

“YES! SUCCESS!” Grinning widely, he sits back down to unwrap his Nice Cream, which cheeps at him, though he doesn’t pay it much mind. “CHEERS, HUMAN!” I hurry to do the same, hearing my own wrapper peep _You look lovely today!_ before I hold my Nice Cream out to his. Papyrus touches his Nice Cream to mine, then settles back down to eat. I laugh quietly, cautiously licking the treat first since I’ve never tried this flavor. It’s nice, but not my favorite. Regardless, Nice Cream is Nice Cream, and I’m comforted in spite of the turmoil going on.

 

 

_Undyne (9:30PM)_

_No, I know that._

_-Thanks though._

_xxx-xxx-xxxx (9:31PM)_

_What do you think it is making her act this way?_

_-Everything going on?_

_Undyne (9:32PM)_

_Maybe. She does get stressed out pretty easily._

_-It’s possible she thinks it’s her fault._

_xxx-xxx-xxxx (9:32PM)_

_Well, it definitely isn’t that._

_-if it’s anybody’s fault, it’s mostly mine. The whole experiment was my idea in the first place._

_Undyne (9:33PM)_

_Not really your fault either, punk._

_-anyway. I’m going to see if she wants me around her._

_xxx-xxx-xxxx (9:34PM)_

_kay. Text me if you need._

_Undyne (9:35PM)_

_Night, punk._

I place my phone to the side for the moment to lap at my Nice Cream to stop it from dripping everywhere. Papyrus appears to have already finished his, and rises a little more tiredly this time to drop off his wrapper and stick in the trashcan.

 

“You okay over there, Paps?” I check in with him just to make sure, a little muffled around the food.

 

“I AM. I’M JUST GETTING SLEEPY, IS ALL.” He instantly appears to pep up, at least for my sake, smiling kindly at me. “I THINK I’LL HEAD OFF TO BED NOW.”

 

“Do you want me to read to you a little? Not to be presumptuous or anything, I mean.” Verbal backpedaling as always on my end. Papyrus visibly hesitates, looking up at his room as if he’s unsure.

 

“PERHAPS IF WE READ ANOTHER STORY… I DON’T WANT TO JUMP AHEAD OF WHERE SANS LAST READ IN THE ONE WE’VE STARTED.” He hedges a little compromise, and I nod in agreement. “ALSO PERHAPS ON A NIGHT IN WHICH YOU’RE NOT WORKING.” Inclining his head to the papers surrounding me, he makes a good point.

 

“Yeah… Yeah, we’ll do that tomorrow night. I should be done with these in just a little.” I cast him a sheepish smile, knowing he’s right and fully admitting it.

 

“DON’T STAY UP TOO LATE, ____. I’LL PICK SOMETHING FOR US TO READ TOMORROW!” With that, Papyrus scurries upstairs, closing the door to his room behind him. Alone again, I lean back into the couch to finish off my Nice Cream. I’ve attempted not to pester Sans all day long, but at this point, I can’t quite keep myself from at least shooting him a text. Even if cell reception is terrible, my own effort will at least ease my mind.

 

 

_xxx-xxx-xxxx (9:45PM)_

_Knock knock._

Another episode of _Chopped_ has begun by now, so I decide to leave the TV on for a little background noise. The rain from earlier has fizzled out by this point, but the weather report on the evening news promised more to come, likely for the next several days. I don’t mind it, I actually quite enjoy rain usually. It’s a nice break from all the sunshine, some unpredictability thrown in throughout my days. After disposing of the remnants of my dessert, I get back to work on the tests for Alphys, mentally lingering for a moment on her situation. I’d ask her what’s wrong, but she doesn’t really seem like someone who responds well to direct questioning. She’d likely clam up even more if I tried. Maybe Undyne’ll be able to get her out of her funk.

 

While grading, I begin to realize there are about three more questions everyone missed, and I write them down just in case I’ll need to credit them for overly-complicated wording. Without a physical copy of the test in front of me, only the answer key and bubbled answer sheets, I have no hope of working that out for myself at this point. The task takes me into the next hour, but not much further, so I take up a little more time composing an email for Alphys on the questions I found, well, questionable. Finally, my phone beeps loudly, and I start, nabbing it and dialing down the volume before examining the notification.

 

 

_Sans (10:18PM)_

_who’s there?_

_xxx-xxx-xxxx (10:18PM)_

_Ketchup._

A little over-eager in my reply, but I couldn’t be inclined to give much of a fuck.

 

 

_Sans (10:19PM)_

_ketchup who?_

_xxx-xxx-xxxx (10:20PM)_

_Ketchup with me and you’ll find out. ;p_

_Sans (10:21PM)_

_wow._

_-that was so lame I couldn’t help but laugh._

_xxx-xxx-xxxx (10:21PM)_

_Not like your jokes are any better, tbh. :(_

_Sans (10:22PM)_

_oh believe me, i know. ;p_

_-how’re you doing, sweetheart?_

_xxx-xxx-xxxx (10:23PM)_

_Nah-uh, I always go first. It’s your turn. How was your day?_

_Sans (10:24PM)_

_if you insist lmao_

_-you need to get comfortable first though. what’re you doing right now?_

_xxx-xxx-xxxx (10:24PM)_

_I just finished grading some papers for Alphys. I’m about to buckle down for bed._

For good measure, I send along a photo of my feet propped up on the coffee table, stack of graded papers off to the side, _Chopped_ on TV, blanket over my lap. I feel like I look pretty comfortable.

 

_-[image 2]_

 

 

_Sans (10:26PM)_

_wtf_

_-sofa as i can see, it looks like you’re sleeping on the couch again._

 

_xxx-xxx-xxxx (10:27PM)_

_Well, I mean, yeah. That’s where I normally sleep._

_Sans (10:28PM)_

_please go sleep in a real bed._

_xxx-xxx-xxxx (10:28PM)_

_Tell me where to find one of those and I will._

_Sans (10:29PM)_

_uh, my room, ya dingus._

_xxx-xxx-xxxx (10:29PM)_

_But that’s your bed, ya dingus._

_Sans (10:30PM)_

_bed-lieve it or not, i’m not currently using it right now._

_xxx-xxx-xxxx (10:30PM)_

_Papyrus won’t mind that I’m invading your personal space?_

I’m giving into this idea. In spite of the innocence of it, my face flushes tomato-red, and I fidget a little with the remote while I wait on his reply.

 

 

_Sans (10:32PM)_

_of course not. he’ll probably feel better knowing you’re getting adequate sleep._

_xxx-xxx-xxxx (10:33PM)_

_Fine._

_Sans (10:33PM)_

_you’re fine._

_-send me a picture when you’re tucked in so i can sleep easy._

_xxx-xxx-xxxx (10:34PM)_

_You’ve used that joke before._

_-and fine again. Also, you’re fine too._

_Sans (10:35PM)_

_i know. to both statements. ;p_

Knowing he won’t cease his good-natured pestering until I send him what he wants, I gather myself up, shrugging my hands into the pockets of the hoodie he leant me before he left and trudging up the stairs and down the hall to Sans’s room. I’ve gathered the idea that his room is somewhat private territory, and as a result, I’ve yet to actually cross that threshold. Grasping the knob in my hand, I’m almost surprised when it gives easily, and I let myself in.

 

Upon entering, the first thing that draws my eye is the apparently-self-sustaining trash tornado occupying one corner of the room. Magic, I assume, as it ambles over to another piece of trash, scooping it up. Papers rustle gently in the wind as they’re whipped around the vortex; I can’t help but watch them go round and round for a moment before settling on the bed. Likely as a result of the tornado’s work, the floor is clear of debris. I lean over to the desk neighboring the bed, flicking on the lamp and snapping a photo of the trash tornado.

 

 

_xxx-xxx-xxxx (10:40PM)_

_[image 3]_

_-Here, you happy?_

_Sans (10:41PM)_

_  
_ _you’re not in bed._

_xxx-xxx-xxxx (10:42PM)_

_Whoa whoa whoa. Are YOU in bed, mister?_

_Sans (10:43PM)_

_  
_ _yes._

_-[image 4]_

Sans sends along a selfie, winking and grinning, his head back against a pillow. I squint at the photo; it looks like he’s in a sleeping bag. Rolling my eyes, I pull open the covers and snuggle down beneath them, immediately just covered in Sans’s scent. Yeah, this is better. My SOUL gives a pained little tug within my chest, and I can almost see the silvery thread of light stretch downward. I elect to play coy when I recover, tugging the covers up over my mouth before taking the photo.

 

 

_xxx-xxx-xxxx (10:45PM)_

_Okay, now we’re both in bed._

_-[image 5]_

_Sans (10:46PM)_

_oh my god._

_-how are you so cute? explain yourself._

_\--[image 6]_

This time, he’s got his face covered by one bony hand, the slightest hint of an electric blue blush visible on his cheeks. My own cheeks flush hotly at the compliment; I can imagine that beautiful baritone of his right this second… I reply with an image of my own blush, smiling softly into the camera and letting the covers drop to my chin, slightly surprised with myself. Passing selfies back and forth between a significant other has never appealed to me before.

 

 

_xxx-xxx-xxxx (10:47PM)_

_[image 7]_

_Sans (10:48PM)_

_you’re not fair at all._

_-wait, i take that back._

_xxx-xxx-xxxx (10:48PM)_

_You’re a regular Shakespeare, huh?_

_Sans (10:49PM)_

_nah, but i’ll be your midsummer night’s dream._

_xxx-xxx-xxxx (10:50PM)_

_You are the actual lamest._

_Sans (10:50PM)_

_you wound me._

_  
xxx-xxx-xxxx (10:52PM)_

_[image 8]_

_-Sorry._

I put on my most adorable pout before I take the photo, examining the screen and finding it satisfactory before sending it his way, tucking my arm up under my head to keep myself awake.

 

_Sans (10:54PM)_

_i wish I were there with you right now._

_xxx-xxx-xxxx (10:55PM)_

_I know… now it’s me and your bed, sans you._

_Sans (10:55PM)_

_my own pickup line against me. how dare you._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HERE HAVE SOME FLUFF TAKE IT.  
> I'm exhausted so I'll have to look this over because I know I probably screwed some stuff up... almost through my hell weeks, guys! Then I can get back to more regular updates. As always, if I've mutilated something, please let me know and I'll fix it. Trying to decide if I want to continue the fluff next chapter or move into the pain. hm. I'll leave that decision to another day.  
> Also, clearly, I love the food network. x_x
> 
> Read about Frisk getting DUNKED THE FUCK ON here: http://archiveofourown.org/works/6724012
> 
> Thank you guys for over 200 kudos, I appreciate each and every one of you!!! x3 Thank you so much for reading!


	24. Haunt

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A slightly shorter chapter than what I normally produce, but I wanted desperately to get something out. Really I should have waited on putting out the last chapter until I had this part finished, but oh well, here we are lmfao.   
> Moderate warning for slightly creppy imagery followed by slight steam? I dunno, imo it's nothing, but I know some people may be made uncomfortable. 
> 
> Enjoy this last respite from pure terror lol. As always, thanks for reading!

Back propped up against the trunk of an old oak tree, I absently run my hands through the soft blades of grass at my sides, cool in the large amount of shade overhead. Cottonball clouds putt across the baby-blue sky, a cool breeze gathering and toying with my hair, lacing locks together and unravelling others. From my perch at the top of the hill, I can see Sans lumber up the steep incline, taking pause and grin widening when he catches sight of me. The ivory of his skull and the lights in his eyes catch the sunlight brilliantly, all white and blue, striding the rest of the way toward me. I smile back, taking hold of the silver thread stretching between us and giving a tender tug. Sans stumbles a little, chuckling heartily as he catches himself.

 

Abruptly, his expression shifts, smile falling right off his face and his eyes guttering into complete blackness. My eyes widen, murky plasma dribbling from his eyesockets and down his chin. I choke on his name in the back of my throat, gagging a similar substance into the hand that instinctively comes to cover my mouth. The next instant I look up, he’s no longer there.

 

Dust motes dance in the breeze, sunlight casting them in gold.

 

Everything’s

**_fi_ **

**_n_ **

**_e_ **

.

 

I laugh, feeling for the thread against my chest and discovering a thick and thorny vine in its place. Wrenching it away from my skin elicits a surge of sharp pain; my eyes fill with tears as I examine the bud at the end of the stem. It blooms in my hand, a luscious black rose. The petals carve into my fingers, down to the bone as they spread, seeking more room than what I’m providing. There’s a face within the folds of the bloom. I lean towards it, hovering above it and squinting. I fall.

 

The darkness **_consumes_**.

 

 

* * *

 

 

I won’t be sleeping tonight, apparently. This is the second time I’ve tried and failed tonight, so I report to Sans once again.

 

 

_xxx-xxx-xxxx (2:45AM)_

_Hey, I woke up again… are you still awake?_

I tuck myself further into his bed, pulling his hoodie tight around me and flipping the hood up. While I wait for a response, I contemplate rising to get a glass of water, or something. At the same time, I feel a twinge of discomfort, childishly unsure of what could be under the bed this very second. My fingers itch at the phone, tempted to call him instead of waiting. I huff a little, tucking the phone under the pillow but keeping my hand around it, absently tracing the crack on the screen with my thumb. I’m about to give up hope and shut my eyes again when my phone vibrates in my grasp, and I pull it back out to take a look.

 

_Sans (2:55AM)_

_kind of. why, what’s up?_

_xxx-xxx-xxxx (2:55AM)_

_Can you distract me, please?_

_Sans (2:56AM)_

_wait, why? is everything okay?_

_xxx-xxx-xxxx (2:56AM)_

_yes yes yes, don’t worry, I’m fine._

_-Just please. Anything._

_Sans (2:57AM)_

_okay okay um…_

_-what’s the square root of 69?_

_\--;)_

_xxx-xxx-xxxx (2:57AM)_

_Uh…_

_8-something…_

_Sans (2:58AM)_

_exactly._

_-ate something. ;)))))_

It takes a solid minute for me to register exactly what he means, even with the assistance of the winky-faces. Finally, the innuendo clicks and my mouth falls open; I honestly didn’t think _dirty_ jokes were in his repertoire. I respond lamely, unable to come up with any form of comeback.

 

 

_xxx-xxx-xxxx (3:00AM)_

_Sans!_

_Sans (3:00AM)_

_what? you did say anything…_

_-i’m sorry, was that too forward?_

_\--or from behind? ;)_

_\---okay, really though, if you’re uncomfortable, i’m sorry. i can definitely stop._

_xxx-xxx-xxxx (3:04AM)_

_No, I’m not._

_-I don’t think I am anyway. It was pretty funny, I just didn’t expect it._

I gnaw on my bottom lip, contemplating my options. I’m certainly more awake now than I had been before his joke, so while my mind is off the darker contents of my subconscious, it now lingers on the lewd. Flushing heavily, I type and retype my next response several times before sending it.

 

 

_\--I don’t think I want you to stop…_

_Sans (3:10AM)_

_well, sweetheart, we don’t have to._

_-now i’m really really really wishing i were in my bed right now lol._

_xxx-xxx-xxxx (3:12AM)_

_Why? What would you do?_

Clapping my hand over my mouth, I bury my face hard into the pillow, unable to believe myself. Sure, I’ve been in relationships before; I’ve had my share of casting suggestive texts like pebbles on a pond, absent with my hand in a popcorn bowl and eyes on the TV screen. I’ve never thought too hard about it. But here I am, cheeks flush with a heady heat, waiting anxiously on his next message.

 

 

_Sans (3:13AM)_

_show you how to have a good time. ;)_

That sounds like a joke, but I can’t quite pick up on it. Still, a laugh nips at my throat, and I shift, growing inquisitive. I mean, would that even work?

 

_xxx-xxx-xxxx (3:15AM)_

_Could we even… you know…_

_-Do it?_

_Sans (3:16AM)_

_‘course we could._

_-not ribbing you or anything, is that something you’d be interested in?_

_xxx-xxx-xxxx (3:18AM)_

_I mean, duh, who wouldn’t be with you?_

_-I don’t know what it is, but I think you’re hot as hell._

_\--I mean okay, your voice has a lot to do with it, and jfc I didn’t think in my wildest dreams I’d be attracted to a skeleton but holy fucking hell you’re even in my actual dreams now, isn’t that crazy?_

_\---Shutting up now._

_Sans (3:20AM)_

_sweetheart, no. that’s not crazy. i thought the same thing_

_-wait_

_\--you dream about me?_

_xxx-xxx-xxxx (3:21AM)_

_Not like_

_-that._

_\--but you’re in my head. So I’m sure it’s a matter of time._

_Sans (3:22AM)_

_oh sweetheart, i won’t just be in your head._

_xxx-xxx-xxxx (3:23AM)_

_Holy literal fuck why do I have to imagine your voice saying that shit_

_Sans (3:24AM)_

_i mean, we could make it a literal fuck._

_xxx-xxx-xxxx (3:24AM)_

_SANS OH MY GOD_

_Sans (3:25AM)_

_;))))))))_

_-that’s what I hope you’ll be saying._

_xxx-xxx-xxxx (3:25AM)_

_I might be._

_-If you make me. ;)_

I make an attempt to flip it back on him, grinning smugly and rolling over onto my back, certain I’ve won.

 

 

_Sans (3:28AM)_

_[image 9]_

That sense of victory immediately fails me, fading straight into almost-dread. I open my phone again, Sans’s sent image immediately popping up. Tugging at his open maw with two fingers, his mouth broadens in a shit-eating grin, his face aglow in neon blue light. Before I can respond, another image comes through, a luminescent aqua-colored tongue stretching languidly from his mouth. My face feels like it’s on fire, and I stuff my phone under the pillow, huffing quietly as I try to calm myself down. It’s just a tongue, it’s just a really blue translucent, awfully wet, warm—I physically can’t handle this, biting the inside of my cheek and struggling with a moan caught in my throat, reminding myself Papyrus is just next door.

 

After a moment or so, I attempt to peek back at my phone again, panting and flicking away from the photo, only to have yet another pop up. This one, however, is just normal-smug-Sans, grinning lazily at me through the phone.

 

 

_Sans (3:35AM)_

_so sorry to do this to ya, sweetheart, but i’ve got to get moving._

_-;p_

 

 

I roll onto my stomach, face-planting in the pillow and stretching my arm out, taking a picture of myself and sending it.

 

 

_xxx-xxx-xxxx (3:36AM)_

_[image 12]_

_-I’m dead, goodbye._

_Sans (3:37AM)_

_:( aw no. don’t be dead._

_-c’mon sweetheart, a smile before i gotta go?_

_\--please?_

Of course, I oblige, turning my head to the side and smiling tiredly, snapping the picture and sending it.

 

 

_Sans (3:38AM)_

_now i know i can get through the day. thank ya, sweetheart._

_xxx-xxx-xxxx (3:39AM)_

_Can you text me later on?_

_Sans (3:39AM)_

_of course. i’ll send you a little “good morning” around when you get up for work._

_-sweet dreams._

_\--i love ya. :)_

 

All mental functioning flatlines for the briefest moments; all I can do is stare wide-eyed at the screen—does that mean what I think it means? Or does it mean something different? Even nothing at all? I don’t want to hesitate too long before I answer, but I don’t want to answer too soon—oh my god what am I doing.

 

_xxx-xxx-xxxx (3:41AM)_

_I love ya too. :) Have a good day!_

I shove my phone back up under the pillow and grimace, tugging on the hood of his sweatshirt to keep it around my head as if to hide my blush like he can see it even now. Squirming a little more, I struggle to find a comfortable position, now much too hot but completely unwilling to remove any articles of clothing or the covers.

 

This is all his fault.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you liked that last bit of joy because SHIT'S HITTING THE FAN NEXT CHAPTER BAHAHAHAAHA. All the shit, directly into the fan. the creppening. the spoopening. screaming and crying and the like. 
> 
> You can crepp on my tumblr at onthewingsoficarus.tumblr.com where I'm essentially a memelord.
> 
> You can also crepp on my violent af Frisk/Sans one-shot headcanon exploration for how Frisk lost their tongue. ;p http://archiveofourown.org/works/6724012 
> 
> I wouldn't recommend crepping too hard though, the void'll getcha.


	25. Entry 22

Uncertain as to how I actually managed any sleep last night, I glower halfheartedly at Sans’s alarm clock, “8:00AM” flashing incessantly in my face. I mull over the consequences of mashing the snooze button, deciding after a moment of listening to the wailing of the alarm to forego the extra ten minutes of not-really-sleep. In spite of the heaviness of his scent surrounding me. It’s almost worse now. Truthfully, I could stay in that bed, in his clothes forever. However, the daily duties of my little life beckon, and I must heed their call as much as I’d love to emulate Sans’s lackadaisical mannerisms.

 

Rising from the rumpled covers, I clutch Sans’s hoodie closer around me, shivering at the slight chill in the air. Apparently, the influx of rain has brought a drop in temperature along with it, so I’m definitely not abandoning his sweatshirt, even though I should probably run it through the laundry. Shrugging at my mental conversation, I hop into a pair of black leggings and wiggle out of the sweatshirt to work myself into a sports bra and grey t-shirt, thankful I don’t have anything to do but help Alphys with any extra grading she has to do today. The house is quiet, save for the gentle tapping of rain on the roof, and I assume Papyrus has already left for work. Which leaves me free to take my time in the bathroom.

 

I return to Sans’s room, toweling at my face with a washcloth and tossing it in the hamper when I’m finished. My phone lights up, blinking at me as I tug Sans’s sweatshirt back over my head. I retrieve it, finding two sets of messages.

 

 

_Sans (8:03AM)_

_wanted to let you know my day’s already been made just thinking about you this morning._

_-i hope you have a great day, sweetheart. i’m not sure how great service is going to be where i’m headed today, so don’t worry if you don’t hear from me until later tonight._

_xxx-xxx-xxxx (8:31AM)_

_I’ll try not to lol._

_-Have a good one, Sans. I can’t wait for you to come back home._

Blushing heavily, I send the texts away and put an effort into not swooning like an over-dressed colonial woman before opening the next set of messages.

 

 

_Undyne (8:25AM)_

_Hey when you get into work, can you check on Alphys? She left without breakfast this morning._

_-and saying goodbye._

_\--not that I’m worried or anything._

_\---Okay I’m really worried._

_xxx-xxx-xxxx (8:34AM)_

_Will do._

 

So I won’t be late, I abandon a more detailed response, grabbing my black raincoat and zipping it up to my chin, tugging both hoods over my head before flopping down on the floor to slip on my sneakers. With any luck, the rain’ll abate for long enough to let me get into work only fairly damp. I set off into the rain on my bike, wishing Papyrus would’ve hung around to take me in today. The journey’s a small reminder of the life I had before I was led right to the group of monsters I’ve made into a makeshift sort of family. Friends, at the very least. The brief reminiscence is enough to make me pedal faster, the abrupt sensation that I’ve forgotten something trailing against the back of my mind. I look back over my shoulder as I tuck my bike into the garage at the back of the lab, unable to put a mental finger on whatever I’ve left behind.

 

That sense of unease follows me into the facility like a shadow at my back. Irritable and certain it’s likely nothing, I unzip my raincoat, rather unsuccessfully shirking off the excess water latched onto the garment. As I attempt to get dry, my phone launches into a cheery ringtone, and I start initially before struggling to pull it out and answer it.

 

“Hello?” I finally manage to get ahold of it, but I’m unable to check caller ID, lest I miss the call.

 

“Yes, ____?” As a result, I’m moderately shocked when Toriel’s voice is the one that replies from the other side.

 

“Oh, hey, Toriel. It’s me.” I answer kindly, brows furrowing in curiosity. Why is she calling me, of all people?

 

“Oh, thank goodness. Dear, I have a student conference in just a few moments, but Frisk appears to have some sort of food poisoning, possibly from their little friend’s home last evening. They made it to school, only to vomit in the car rider line.” She heaves a heavy sigh into the receiver, and I smile a little, envisioning where this is going. “As a result, I had to take them with me, but I’m already running a little late. I attempted to contact Alphys, but her phone went straight to voicemail. Is there any way you could watch them, at least while I handle this meeting? It shouldn’t take very long. Perhaps less than an hour.”

 

“Of course, Toriel! I’d be happy to. I know Alphys has a couch in her office, I doubt she’d mind Frisk bunking there for a little while.” At least, I hope she won’t mind. Her behavior lately could contradict that.

 

“Wonderful! Thank you, dear, we’ll be straight over. Are you at the laboratory now?” In the background, I can hear footsteps and the gentle crush of rain.

 

“Yes, ma’am, but I’ll head to the front to let you in there.” I go ahead and begin to move as well, keeping a quick pace through the tiled hallway and making my way toward the official entrance of the facility.

 

“Perfect, we’ll see you right there.” Toriel hangs up just as I arrive at the door, standing just inside the glass double doors and waiting for them to arrive.

 

Within the next few minutes, two figures materialize out of the morning gloom, sheltered under a big purple umbrella. I step forward enough to cause the automatic sensors to open up the door, smiling gently as they approach. Frisk trudges along miserably, kicking at the puddles in their way, while Toriel appears to gracefully float over them with her elegant gait.

 

“Good morning, ____. How’re you doing?” Toriel returns my simper as she lowers her umbrella once they’re inside the building.

 

“I’m well, happy to spend a little time with Frisk, even if they’re sick.” More naturally now, I begin to supplement my conversation with gestures, and receive an approving little smile from Frisk. “How’re you?” I redirect my attention to Toriel.

 

“I’ve been better. But I’ve also been worse.” She chuckles softly, covering her mouth to do so. “I should get going before the students get too restless and assume I’ve forgotten our appointments. Please let me know if you need anything, I should respond to text messages. And thank you again for watching them.”

 

“It’s absolutely no problem. Good luck!” Frisk steps to my side after hugging Toriel and letting her go, allowing Toriel to reopen her umbrella and walk back out into the rain. Once she’s gone from sight, I turn to Frisk. _“Is it okay if we hang out in Alphys’s office?”_ They nod slightly in response, smiling a little more weakly.

 

 _“Can we go by a bathroom first?”_ Their skin develops a greenish hue rather quickly, so I waste no more time, leading them by the shoulder to the restrooms on the first floor. Once they catch sight of the facilities, they break into a run, bursting through the door and disappearing behind it. Catching up, I lean against the wall just beside the doorway, pity welling in my gut for them as I wait for them to return. While I do so, I shoot a text Undyne’s way, knowing she’ll storm up here and forego her job if I don’t provide her with any information. I assume worrying her unnecessarily will place me directly on her bad side.

 

_xxx-xxx-xxxx (8:55 AM)_

_Hey, I’m here at work with Frisk. We’re about to head upstairs._

_Undyne (8:55AM)_

_Okay._

Just as I’d thought, she responds instantly, indicating her already-thin patience was likely verging on crumbling away to nothing. I replace my phone in my rainjacket-pocket as Frisk stumbles wearily from the restroom, signing to them.

 

_“Pretty bad, huh?”_

_“I feel like death.”_ Comes their reply, with a mute little giggle, mimicking their mother adorably by hiding their mouth in one hand. At least they look a little better after likely barfing their guts up.

 

 _“Well, c’mon, let’s see if we can do anything for you upstairs.”_ I direct them to the nearby elevator, stepping inside and holding the door open for them to follow me inside. _“So, how long has this been going on?”_

_“Since really late last night, but it seems to be stopping now… I don’t really have anything left to puke up.”_ Frisk grins rather wryly, and I’m slightly surprised that they’re still on their feet if this has been going on that long.

 

 _“Well, we’ll see if you can hold down some ice chips before I try to give you anything else. Don’t want anything else coming up.”_ I’m empathetic of their situation certainly, a particularly bad episode of my own food poisoning coming to mind and triggering a flood of saliva just at the thought.

 

 _“Is Alphys doing any better? Mom said she’s been down in the dumps lately… and she hasn’t returned any of my texts, so…”_ Their expression shifts to one of disquiet, frowning up at me. I know infinitely better than to sugarcoat things for this kid.

 

_“Honestly, no. She’s not really talking to anybody right now; don’t take it as a personal thing. I’m not really sure what’s going on with her, and neither is Undyne. Basically, she’s been this way since Sans left for Underground…”_

_“She’s never not answered her phone though.”_ Frisk cuts off as the elevator door slides open once again, the hallway completely empty as far as we can see.

 

 _“I know. It’s not very like her at all…”_ I remark, noting internally how loud the squeak of my sneakers sounds against the tile without any other form of background noise and subsequently struggling to silence the noise.

 

Frisk merely shakes their head _“no”_ in answer, leaning forward slightly in their stride and peering cautiously around the corner nearest Alphys’s office before following me. I cast them a bemused glance in spite of the anxiety pooling in my gut. Of course no one else is here; it’s early in the morning and the test grades haven’t been uploaded yet. There’s no reason any student could have gone astray and somehow ended up here unless they didn’t know our project was cancelled. Even then, everyone’s heard about Dr. Abernathy’s catatonic state by now, and how it came about, even if they’ve only heard rumors. No, this is correct. This is as it should be. I bring a loose fist up to the closed door to Alphys’s office, knocking in quick succession and smiling reassuringly at Frisk. We wait about two minutes, no distinct sounds of movement emanating from within. I knock again, louder this time, wondering if perhaps she’s taking a nap. Insomnia seems to align with the rest of her behavior; if she’s experiencing it, it would make sense.

_”Do you think she’s even in there?”_ Frisk pipes up, reaching out and trying the knob. The door creaks open, and they lean into the crack, peering through.

 

“Careful…” I murmur gently despite myself, since they can’t see my hands move. Frisk stands stock-still briefly, then allows the door to open completely. Alphys is not present, her leather chair spun to one side as if she left the room in a hurry. “Huh…” Following the fearless Frisk into the room, I survey the office space. The room appears to be in complete disarray, the typically relatively-organized clutter strewn about heedlessly. I stoop to gather a few papers that seem to belong together, settling the small stack on her desk. My mind spins up possible reasons for the change, scenarios that would lead Alphys to this.

 

 _“She’s not here.”_ Frisk turns back to me after scouring the entire room for a sign of her, then freezes as their gaze falls on a stray scrap of paper haphazardly tossed over Alphys’s keyboard. Scooping it up, their eyes widen after reading briefly, pushing the piece of paper into my hands and motioning _“look!”_ frantically.

 

_the dark creeps and it eeks and it stings and it burns and I can’t fucking take it hahaha what do you mean this is my fault it’s all my fault it’s all it’s all too much I just cannot do this anymore but you must_

_stabbing sticking drawing there is so much red and there is so much black and the dark I thought it couldn’t get darker but it just keeps going down down they all still don’t know how long can I play this sicky sticky little game of mine ours_

_please don’t make me do this I don’t I will hurt them all I will carve out their teeny little hearts and take everything they hold dear dear you may not miss me when this is over but if you bear with me maybe maybe I can make it quick and slick if you help me_

_it is not_

_coming_

_it is_

_here._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *posts chapter and runs*  
> I dunno, I really hope you guys like it. I feel off about it because I was so disjointed in writing it. I kept having ideas during the day (I was stuck in another city doing training all week) and tried to write them down, but then when I got back to my computer I couldn't make the words come out. I should be back to a more normal schedule now that I've worked my last day with my former job, so... hopefully my mind will chill tf out. Having some #personal issues as well in regards to my mother, and I really shouldn't be so angry about it all the time. really should just chill tf out.  
> Thank you as always for reading!  
> My tumblr is available at onthewingsoficarus.tumblr.com  
> And you can read violent things in the kinda-relevant Sans-Frisk one-shot of mine, Paper Sun, located here: http://archiveofourown.org/works/6724012


	26. Everything You Hold, Dear

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: graphic violence af this chapter. We're into the nitty-gritty now, so probably expect that from here on out. There will be a fair amount of violence, blood, etc. And by fair, I mean a lot. I once wrote a Final Destination fanfic and that like obliterated my perception of amounts of violence, so... be warned.  
> If you'd like some mood music, have a listen to "Is It Scary/Threatened (Immortal Version)" by Michael Jackson here: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=WtjtC7sUyz0 The "Threatened" half in particular is like on-fuckin-point. Imo, it'd make a great GMV. But my talents certainly aren't in editing lmfao.  
> That said, I hope you enjoy!

I can’t consciously recall the exact instant I instructed my body to move, only registering that I’m in a dead sprint when I recognize I’m rapidly closing in on the only room I can think she’d be in. Heart in my throat, I tussle with the heavy steel door, hindered by my overloaded keyring. There’s no reason it should be locked; we’d been shut down, so there’re no appointments today. No reason for her to be in here.

 

I try to convince myself this isn’t as bad as where my mind has instantly taken it, flashes of Dr. Abernathy’s mutilated body replaced with Alphys’s disrupting my thoughts and efforts. Frisk dashes to my side, their presence steadying my hand. It’ll be fine; we’ll walk in and this’ll all be a really bad joke or maybe Alphys just needs to go talk to someone. Maybe she just needs help.

 

Finally, the correct key finds the lock, and I pry the heavy door open with Frisk’s assistance. The interior of the laboratory is pitch black, the only light present a refraction from the hallway off of Alphys’s glasses. Stoic and silent, she sits where I recall her monitors are, faced toward the entrance of the room.

 

 _“Alphys! What’re you doing in here?!”_ Frisk steps forward, sighing almost angrily at her, then freezes. The computer monitors all around the room burst on, bright cerulean light piercing our eyes and backlighting Alphys’s figure, shrouding her face in shadow.

 

“Alphys, what is this?!” Shielding my eyes, I blink into the overbearing radiance, standing firm in the doorway until writhing black tentacles seem to materialize out of nothing from her back, dripping murky ooze, slopping onto the tile floor. “H-holy shit…!” My voice cracks as I immediately back-step, finding the door shut once more behind me. “Fuck, no way!” I grip the handle, tugging uselessly while still trying to keep an eye on Alphys.

 

Frisk backs into the door to stand at my side, turning to yank on the handle and backing off with a soundless yelp at the mire that begins to leak from the lock. Terrified as the goop begins to take shape in another tentacle, I yank Frisk back from the door, forced deeper into the room.

 

Alphys lifts her head, staring sightlessly in our direction as her eyes roll back in her skull, leaving just the whites. Her jaw drops open, a garbled mess of words pouring from her mouth. Nothing makes sense to me; Frisk nearly crashes to their knees, clutching at their ears and mouthing “make it stop”. Instinctively, I tug them close, hugging their head into my jacket and hoping to stifle the unbearable noise.

 

“Alphys, stop! You’re hurting them!” Frisk has their eyes squeezed shut now, burrowing their face into my stomach and hanging onto the hem of my jacket tightly. Bright red beads of blood bubble at the corners of their eyes, and comprehension eludes me. “ALPHYS!” I scream as loudly as I can over the racket, desperate for it to end. And it does.

 

Her deadened gaze drags from Frisk to me. I completely lock up, eyes wide and terrified, unsure of what exactly to expect. Once again, her maw snaps open, and the words claw into the inside of my brain, tearing a hole through my skull. My knees hit the floor at that point, sharp pain rattling up through my body, but fading into the dissonance scattering all my thoughts.

 

 ** _“Do not interfere, human. You are meddling in affairs beyond your comprehension and time.”_** Through the static sticking to my brain, a blur of Alphys’s voice and another, lower warbling voice washes over me, hard shudders raking up my spine in response. I gape at Alphys, unable to make my mouth form words under the weight of the pain. **_“But perhaps you may still be of some use. Let’s see what your innards look like, shall we?”_**

 

A strangled cry breaches my lips as some unseen force yanks hard on my SOUL, which smashes headlong into the back of my ribcage. Inexperienced but instinctive, I cover my chest with my hands, fighting to will my SOUL to stay put. Clearly outmatched, my SOUL begins to seep through my skin, the indigo light visible even beneath Sans’s hoodie. Gasping in desperate breaths, I grasp onto the heart-shaped object, attempting to push it back into my chest and wishing Sans would have taught me what to do with the damn thing.

 

Alphys’s giggle is distorted and warped into a hacking cackle. **_“Ah, you are an intriguing specimen, aren’t you? A rare blend. Yes… I will create a place for you too in my plan. But we can discuss that more… intimately another time. This sack of meat, while certainly more effective than the last, is no true vessel for my form. I promise you, dear-heart, we will truly meet soon enough.”_** It forces Alphys’s body to sigh, a whimper of what’s likely sheer agony leaking through the noise.

 

“Leave her alone!” I attempt to shout through my ragged breathing, rather unsuccessful at doing so. The creature simply forces her to laugh again. However, its focus faults as a flood of radiant crimson light bathes the room.

 

In its concentration on me, Frisk has slipped the proverbial leash, wielding their SOUL as a weapon. It looses an angry shriek, dragging Alphys back away from Frisk, the tentacles sprouting from her back threatening to smash the both of us. It seems to attempt to speak once more, but I can no longer understand what it’s trying to say, the fog-like paroxysm abating almost immediately. Just as it begins to bring one of the trunk-like tentacles down upon us, Frisk’s SOUL emits a harsh pulse of red light and deflects it away. A shriek of pain slips out of Alphys’s mouth amidst the garbled growls of sheer rage, and out of fear for her life I turn to Frisk.

 

“Don’t hurt her!”

 

 _“I won’t, but I can’t just stand here and let us be killed! We have to ACT!”_ Frisk answers as quickly as they can, before dodging yet another tentacle. This one smashes so hard into the floor that pieces of tile are cast into the air, and I cover my face with a frightened yelp. Alphys’s head snaps around, empty gaze locking onto me at breakneck speed and once again I’m frozen in place. I’d be frustrated if I weren’t so terrified. In my peripheral, Frisk flies past Alphys with a hammer in hand, seeming to miss, but actually meeting their mark, hacking their way through one of the tentacles with the sharply clawed half of the head of the hammer.

 

 ** _“So, you wish to ACT to save your friend, hm?”_** An odd clicking noise accompanies the speech from Alphys’s mouth, like her exhale is hung on something in her throat. **_“Dear-heart, please know there are consequences for every ACTion.”_** As the guttural voice slips from her, a smaller tentacle slithers up over her body to find her jaw, wrapping itself several times around her chin and the inside of her mouth.

 

“Nononono—“ Unaware I’m babbling breathlessly, I can only stare transfixed, watching the thing unhinge Alphys’s jaw at the seams with a series of sickening cracks. The pain it inflicts on its host causes a brief moment of dissonance, in which Alphys appears to regain slight control over her captor, clawing at the appendage wrapped around her mouth and tugging her eyes shut. Free once more, I stagger forward, unsure of what else to do but speak. “Alphys, please hang on! Frisk and I are here, but you have to fight them off! Don’t let it use you!”

 

Frisk appears to be too frightened to try attacking the extensions of the creature again, lest it tear Alphys apart any more than it already has. Instead, they sign rapidly, approaching at my side as Alphys retreats. _“Come back, Alphys. This isn’t your fault, please, we need you, so many people need you, so you have to come back. We still need to finish watching all of your anime collection.”_ I follow Frisk’s lead, trying to talk her out of it.

 

“You didn’t tell me you have a personal collection, Alphys, now we’re going to have to hold marathon nights or something so I can catch up to you and Frisk. You gotta come back though to help me plan that. You have to come back, Alphys—“

 

_“I know how hard it’s been for you, but you ended up saving those amalgams, you know, Alphys? They still live with their families on the Surface and I check on them sometimes because I know you’re too shy and they’re always so grateful to have them back—“_

“So much light is in the world because of you, Alphys. I don’t know where I’d be today, truly, if I hadn’t met you, but I know I need you, Frisk needs you, Undyne needs you—“

 

_“Please, Alphys! Pleasepleasepleaseplease!“_

An unnatural screech tears from Alphys’s now stuck-open mouth, silencing our attempts to bring her back immediately. Her hands come up to grasp at her skull, clawing despairingly at her temples as if she can tear the entity out of her head that way. She manages to draw blood before the other being within her tugs her hands down, the appendages wrapping each arm firmly behind her back and threatening to do much worse.

 

 _“No!”_ Frisk opens their mouth, mutely echoing their sign and lurching rushing forward to attempt to help her. _”Stop! Leave them alo—“_ Gasping unevenly, Frisk stumbles to their knees, staring emptily at Alphys.

 

“Frisk!” I’m quick to follow, doing my damnedest to keep my eyes averted, grabbing Frisk by the shoulders and shaking them. “Snap out of it!” The cacophony of breaking glass spins my head right around; one of the tentacular appendages appears to have smashed a hole in the nearest window.

 

However, something seems to have clicked back in place within Alphys, her pupils clearly visible once again. Her expression is one of pure distress, having managed to free one hand and grasping in horror at her unhinged jaw. She wheezes something that sounds like a gargled “please” as the tentacles drag her out of the window, fat tears rolling out of her bloodshot eyes, clawing desperately at the windowsill and openly resisting the parasite within her. Frisk, determined not to let her go without a fight and newly freed once more, lunges to grab ahold of her hand, attempting to dig their feet into the tile floor to no avail.

 

“Don’t let go!” I’m not sure exactly who I’m actually addressing, maybe all of us as I wrap my arms around Frisk’s middle, finding a little more purchase for the briefest of moments. In that short amount of time, I look frantically to Alphys, and it’s instantly apparent we’re on a strict time limit. The darkness is already gnawing at her eyes, devouring her tenuous hold on her own mind, but she’s still present enough to be aware that she’s slipping away. And her countenance is one of complete terror. And I know Frisk and I can’t hold her against the monster for much longer.

 

“Don’t let go…” I repeat, gravel in my throat and another meaning on my mind, hoping she understands. Frisk seems to, nodding ferociously in spite of their hold slipping to just two fingers. I will her as strongly as possible to remain, not to let herself be fully consumed by the darkness. Unable to verbally respond, she closes her eyes, appearing to swallow her nerves. Or maybe that’s her resolve.

 

Within the next second, everything snaps. Frisk loses their fragile hold on Alphys. She lets out a horrified scream, likely unable to stop herself. Until the thing within her does so instead, choking her off as she plummets toward the ground. A noise like a broken toy horn tears out of Frisk’s throat as I yank them away from the window, struggling not to let them see if she does end up hitting the ground. It’s forty to fifty feet, at least, to the ground from this floor, and if the other inhabitant decides to forego her body for another host, well… Swallowing anxiously, I listen for the sloppy thud that would indicate her landing.

 

But it doesn’t come.

 

Branches crackle under a weight below, and I gingerly let go of Frisk, peering out the window with them. Several larger trees in the surrounding forest sway in what certainly isn’t a breeze, a rhythm and path clearly discernible from above. A telltale tendril slips into sight as it wraps around a higher branch just for a moment. And then it’s gone.

 

“Where’s it taking her?” I mumble breathlessly, mostly to myself, squinting after them. A tug at my sleeve causes me to shift my attention, and I find myself facing what’s likely the truth in Frisk’s hands.

 

_“Underground.”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Meet me in the club, it's goin' dooooown.  
> I apologize for the sins I have committed here. And have yet to commit. :)  
> You can come on down to my random-ass tumblr I've had literally for ages here: onthewingsoficarus.tumblr.com I'm mostly just a memelord there.  
> You can also take a peek at more violence in Paper Sun here: http://archiveofourown.org/works/6724012  
> Thank you as always for reading! Let me know if I'm a terrible awful person!


	27. The Woods

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope everyone's having a wonderful Memorial Day weekend! But if you're not in the US, I hope you're having a wonderful weekend as well! I definitely needed this long weekend, personally. The back half of this week was extremely emotionally taxing, and I'm so glad it's over. Hoping this next week will pass pretty quickly... gah!  
> As always, I hope you loves enjoy!

Frisk catches themselves on a slender tree trunk, wrapping one arm around it to steady themselves as they hunch over and hack at the dirt. Dry-heaving while sprinting through the forest probably isn’t what the doctor would prescribe to fix whatever bug they happened to ingest, but here we are. Shoes skidding on the wet leaves on the forest floor, I come to a stop and double back to them.

 

 _“You okay?”_ I sign quickly, looking into their face for signs of distress. Their skin’s still slightly greenish, but perhaps less than the last I’d seen, and their expression is one of sheer determination. Even if I tried to send them back to Toriel, I doubt they’d let me. They nod, standing up straight again and pushing themselves into a slow jog. Following close behind, I take the opportunity to attempt yet another phone call to Undyne, pressing the phone to my ear to listen.

 

“I’m sorry, but your call cannot be placed at this time. Please try again later.” Says the overly calm automated woman, and I have to remind myself how much my phone costs so I don’t hurl it at the nearest tree.

 

“Mother of fuck…” I hiss under my breath, checking the screen as Frisk picks up the pace again. A cheery notification of ‘No Service’ rests in the upper left corner. “Frisk, does your phone work?!” I call to them, knowing they won’t turn around to look for a sign. They shrug, flipping their phone to me. Much to my disdain, it also says ‘No Service’, but I attempt to reach out to Undyne again anyway on their phone. Again, the same lady, all condescending. Irritated at the situation, I quicken my pace, falling in next to Frisk.

 

Of course the entrance to the Underground would be on government-restricted property where communication is jammed.

 

Scoffing internally, I try to recall the way based on where Sans met up with Papyrus. Luckily, it seems Frisk knows exactly where we’re headed.

 

It isn’t until we’re closer to Underground that I’m sure we’re on the right path. In its desperation with Alphys resisting it, it’s left a torrent of destruction in its wake. Trees of varying sizes lay tangled in splintered heaps together, heaved up from the dirt as if a tornado had torn through the area. A similar black substance to what was seeping off Alphys lingers on several of the shattered branches. Puddles of the stuff begin to move as we pass by, drawn toward us like a magnetic charge.

 

“We might need to go faster…” I murmur under my breath, putting a hand on the small of Frisk’s back to push them forward. They nod, looking over their shoulder, their eyes instantly widening as they throw themselves into a full-on sprint. I don’t question it, immediately following suit. I tell myself not to turn around, consciously repeating the phrase in my mind as the urge to glance behind us clenches around me, drawing tighter and forcing the hair on the back of my neck and arms to stand on edge.

 

Out of the corner of my eye, I spot a blur of black, and in response I throw my arm out, sweeping Frisk off the beaten path and following them into the underbrush. Sure enough, not a second after I’ve moved us, one of the very same tentacles slams into our footprints we’d left on the trail in the mud. Disembodied from Alphys, they’re infinitely more aggressive, lashing out to trip us up from either side. Frisk inhales sharply and stumbles; I just manage to grab their arm to keep them upright.

 

“Keep going!” I’m not sure what else to tell them, and even that’s completely obvious. I know we can’t run forever, surely either we’ll wind up where we’re supposed to be at the entrance to the Underground or smashed on the ground or on a tree or—

 

Frisk gasps in horror as their feet are torn out from under them, and they’re held up suspended in the air by a successful tendril of black. Wheeling around, I open my mouth to call their name, only to be snatched up myself by the ankle, instead letting out a terrified scream. Flailing wildly in the air, I struggle to reach up and tear myself free, unable to contort myself in such a way to grasp ahold of my bindings. As I’m swung off to one side, I can see Frisk, held up by their wrist, tear at the bonds with their free hand. They’re able to release themselves, dropping to the ground with a sharp exhale at their rough landing. Frantic, I stretch to grasp ahold of their hand when they recover enough to reach for me. The hold on my ankle squeezes tighter by the second, at near-crushing strength within a moment, and I can’t help but cry out in pain.

 

“Frisk, please! Please—AH!” Making an attempt to kick the tentacle off with my free leg proves unsuccessful as well, and I’m certain within seconds I’ll hear the telltale crack of bone. Just before my tibia and fibula give, a blur of ivory sheers through the appendage, and I plummet towards the ground.

 

“DO NOT FRET, HUMAN! I WILL RESCUE BOTH YOU AND FRISK!” Papyrus announces boldly as he makes a very neat catch, settling me back on my feet to raise a defensive barrier of white bones around us and flinging several out at the remaining tendrils of darkness. I count my lucky stars as Papyrus shoos them off, at least for the moment. Magic, I’m sure. Papyrus doesn’t let one get near us as soon as he’s involved; truly, he appears to be a natural in spite of his consistently adorable behavior.

 

 _“We have to keep going! And hurry!”_ Frisk catches my attention as Papyrus’s attacks begin to taper off. Papyrus seems to catch the tail end of Frisk’s sign and turns toward the both of us as a questioning expression spreads on his face.

 

“WHY DO YOU NEED TO HURRY? WHAT’S GOING ON?”

 

“Paps, something’s really really wrong with Alphys, and it has to do with that dark stuff that just had Frisk and I… We’re not really sure what it is, but we have to go after her!” My voice pitches drastically, aftershocks of adrenaline rushing through my veins. But I can’t make myself say “I think she’s possessed”, like the idea is too final. Infinitely too much. Something out of a horror movie. Not my life.

 

“HAVE YOU CALLED UNDYNE?” Papyrus instantly looks concerned, standing even straighter.

 

“We can’t reach her! Both of our phones have no service, and we didn’t want to lose her trail!” He clearly hesitates at the information, and I add, “Paps, I don’t think we can afford to wait on her…”

 

“VERY WELL. I MUST REMAIN ON THIS SIDE, AS THIS IS MY JOB, HOWEVER…” Papyrus looks to Frisk, then back to me. “FRISK KNOWS THE UNDERGROUND JUST AS WELL AS ANY OF US WOULD. AND I KNOW THEY’VE TRAINED WITH UNDYNE AND I; THEY SHOULD BE ABLE TO PROTECT YOU BOTH.” Frisk supplements Papyrus’s confidence in them with a steadfast nod of affirmation. “AND WHEN YOU ARRIVE UNDERGROUND, YOU SHOULD BE ABLE TO CALL SANS. LAZY AS HE IS, HE DOES HAVE SOME VERY COOL SPECIAL ATTACKS UP HIS SLEEVES.” Papyrus nods himself, pressing his right hand over his chest. “AND I WILL FIND UNDYNE AND BRING HER HERE TO MEET YOU BELOW AS WELL. CERTAINLY THEN YOU’LL ALL BE ABLE TO FIND ALPHYS AND BRING HER AROUND.”

 

“That’s perfect, Paps!” The plan seems sound to me. Frisk obviously knew what they were doing five years ago, and closer to adulthood would definitely be able to handle themselves even better than their previous trip. With Sans by our side, we’d obviously be safe. And then with Undyne’s divine fury unleashed, well… That nasty entity better start saying its prayers.

 

 _“Let’s go!”_ Frisk tugs on my sleeve impatiently, looking up to Papyrus. _“Sorry, Papyrus, but we really have to go. She could be near Asgore by now!”_ Papyrus stiffens at that, stepping aside immediately at the thought.

 

“GO, FRISK AND ____! WE WILL FOLLOW SHORTLY!” With that farewell, Papyrus rushes off back in the direction we’d come from.

 

 _”The cave should be just ahead.”_ Frisk reassures me before beginning to jog again. I follow at a bit of a limp, struggling to ignore the certainly-forming bruising around my ankle.

 

“Shouldn’t Asgore be strong enough to defend himself if Alphys did make it to him…?” I ask after a moment, still glancing around in case some of the darkness still lingered.

 

 _“Theoretically.”_ Frisk sets their jaw, as if the thought unnerves them. _“He’s very reluctant to use his power, typically, and definitely wouldn’t kill a monster. Normally. But it’s been five years.”_

 

“So he could have changed.”

 

_“Yeah.”_

 

Great.

 

About ten minutes later, a cliff looms up out of the gloom of the rainy morning. Initially, I think we may be going rock-climbing, but Frisk leads me to the far side of the cliff face, a steep, gravelly path stretching up the side of the formation. It’s treacherous enough, but definitely safer than attempted to climb up the cliff without equipment in the rain. We begin our ascent immediately, the both of us forced to sort of scramble through the mud and rocks rather than just walk. I definitely lose track of time over the course of the climb, but we eventually find the top. A cave, _the_ cave, I presume, holds its maw open before us, rainwater running off the stalactite-teeth hanging from the roof of the opening and dribbling at our feet.

 

“Is this where you guys came out when the barrier broke?” Breathless, the question comes out a little densely. Frisk nods in response, hands on their knees as they breathe in raggedly, expression seeming to contemplate whether or not they need to step aside to vomit once more before continuing forward. “You okay?” I ask another question after a moment of watching their internal battle. They visibly gulp down whatever bile they may have in their throat, shutting their eyes and nodding.

 

 _”We have to keep moving.”_ Their sign comes after another moment of recovery.

 

“Okay…” I hedge anxiously, watching them stagger a bit before walking normally. Maybe we should have mentioned to Papyrus that Frisk wasn’t exactly 100%. Heaving a sigh, I dismiss the thought; it's too late for that now. 

 

We step forward side-by-side into the cave. As soon as we pass beneath the roof of the cave, for a brief moment it feels as if I’m walking through a wall of jelly, though I can’t see anything out of place. The lighting’s simply getting worse, as it’s supposed to when one enters a cave. We’re free again after several seconds of that odd little feeling, and I glance over at Frisk for some kind of explanation, knowing they’d know better than me.

 

 _”I think that’s the new barrier… The old one kept mostly everything from going in and allowed only humans to leave.”_ Frisk turns around to test their theory, and is able to walk the few steps back through the barrier, and then back to me, which is a significant comfort. _”This new one seems to be meant just for Asgore.”_

“Maybe that’s why it didn’t keep in whatever this thing is…” Frisk’s eyes widen marginally, nodding sharply in agreement.

 

 _“That would make sense as far as why it came out… if it was trapped down here in the first place.”_ Their expression shifts slightly, betraying just a fragment of guilt that likely stretches infinitely deeper than what they reveal.

 

“Hey, this isn’t your fault, Frisk. If it didn’t happen up on the Surface, who’s to say it wouldn’t have happened down here? And then Alphys may have been by herself.” That suggestion registers fairly well with Frisk, better than I’d expected, and they perk right up.

 

The long, darkening hallway eventually opens up to a dimly lit antechamber, dusty grey walls housing a dirt floor. Frisk’s fleeting smile falls once more, and I can tell they’re confused, but lord knows what they could be thinking about. They pause to ponder the patch of dirt for a moment, and I glance behind us. The archway we’d walked through is carved on this side in an elegantly sweeping manner that would befit the classical artists of Greece. An eroded rune, the Delta Rune, I recognize from my studies, rests in the frieze, exuding a purplish hue in spite of its initially dull appearance. Persevering even now through the dirt and the dust. I turn to ask Frisk about the patch of dirt, but find they’re already moving on through the next archway, and I’m forced to hurriedly follow after them.

 

Frisk breezes through the next room fairly quickly. This one is larger than the last, though the same entryways cap each exit of room. What appears to be a small hole in the rocky roof spotlights the chamber in a soft light, perhaps because of the rainy day aboveground or the sheer distance we are below the Surface at this point. I’m unsure. A familiar scent pervades the room, but I can’t place where I first came across it until we enter the next room.

 

A vast, once-spectacular room stretches before us, the back of a lavish gold and purple throne visible in the center, with one more chair covered by a white tarp in the corner nearest us. Gloomy, but gentle light filters through the ceiling in lovely little patches. However, rather than illuminating what was likely a beautiful garden, the light falls on the tattered and rotten bodies of hundreds upon thousands of tiny golden flowers.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some SHIT IS UP Underground. But it's up on the Surface too. AaaaaaaaAAAAAAAAH.  
> Asgore-appearance likely next chapter. Get hype!  
> I had to look up maps of New Home to make sure I was getting this shiz right lol. But still, if I manage to horribly screw something up, let me know and I'll fix the heck out of it.  
> Hoping to get a significant part of the next chapter done with my day off tomorrow. So, we'll see what happens. ;A;  
> You can creep on my memelording at onthewingsoficarus.tumblr.com  
> Read the sort-of-tie-in one-shot Paper Sun at http://archiveofourown.org/works/6724012
> 
> Thank you as always for reading! :D


	28. Kingdom Come

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tf when people don't do what the hell they're supposed to do at work and ya gotta work twice as hard to fix what they fucked. щ(ಠ益ಠщ) Short weeks are supposed to be nice and easy but they're not T_T #realtears gah.   
> No warnings this chapter, y'all. Enjoy!

Standing still in the middle of the room, Frisk looks around with an expression of sheer shock on their face. I follow their footprints through the dead flowers, the same aroma as Toriel’s tea rising up from their little bodies, over-ripe. When I reach their side, I gingerly step to a spot on the floor where there aren’t as many flowers, which proves to be difficult. The room feels like a cemetery, the air heavy and stagnant, hot even. Frisk bends down and plucks one of the golden flowers from the dirt, holding the limp little thing in their hand.

 

_“New Home wasn’t like this last time I was down here. This isn’t right.”_ After a few more seconds, the flower simply disintegrates into a pile of dust in Frisk’s hand. Their expression twists in complete distress, brushing the powder from their hands frantically.

 

“Maybe someone just hasn’t been watering them…? Was there a groundskeeper or someone like that who went to the Surface?” I glance behind us, finding we’ve left small heaps of dust in our wake where there were once flowers. I shudder involuntarily at the sight; something about this is very disconcerting.

 

_“No. Something’s off.”_ Frisk shakes their head, looking back as well, and then forward before carefully tiptoeing over the rest of the way to the exit. _”Asgore used to take care of these.”_

 

“Maybe he’s suffering from depression… from being locked down here, you know?” Frisk just shrugs, and I can’t help but agree that it’s a halfhearted sort of suggestion based on what’s going on around us.

 

_”Maybe…”_ I follow Frisk out of the throne room to a two-pronged hallway. On closer observation, the entire structure appears to be composed of grey marble, which provides the area a regal, but somewhat detached appearance. While the middle of the hallway is very well-lit, the path on the right ends in a pool of golden light pouring from the entryway, and the path on the left disappears in pitch-black darkness, so thick I can’t see the end. _“This is all different…”_ Frisk stares off toward the left, their eyes narrowing at the gloom. I squint into it as well, and I think I can see it move, but it could just be me.

 

It’s too quiet.

 

“When should we call Sans…?” I ask, preemptively moving to the right. Fuck the dark part of the hallway. Fuck that real hard. Frisk is quick to follow, constantly scanning the area as if they’re looking for something.

 

_”You can try now.”_ Nodding, I retrieve my phone from my pocket, wiping the mud from the Surface off my hands as best as I can before touching the screen. I cradle the phone between my shoulder and ear as the call attempts to connect, trying not to pay attention to the pounding throb in my ankle. The call does go through, but I reach his voicemail.

 

“The number you’ve reached has not installed their voice mailbox yet. Please try your call later.” I’m going to find this lady and kick her directly in the teeth.

 

“Sans hasn’t set up his fucking voicemail.” I growl, shoving my phone back into my pocket. Frisk snickers lightly, shaking their head.

 

_“Sounds like him.”_

“I’m gonna make him—“

 

My grumbling immediately ceases the moment we step into the next room. The golden light preluding our entrance should have clued me in, but I’m completely stunned by the architecture of the room. A blip of color in an otherwise grey palace, this room is vast, covered in beautiful gold tiles, lovely amber light pouring in through stained glass windows. Tiny dust motes are illuminated, dancing lackadaisically in the light. Large circular columns cascade elegantly down from the impressively high ceiling.

 

“Holy shit…” I murmur, remembering to close my gaping mouth after realizing it’s been hanging open since we walked in and looking to Frisk for an explanation.

 

_“This is Sans’s Judgment Hall.”_ They seem a little rigid in their signing, avoiding eye contact in favor of examining the room as well. As uncomfortable as they seem, they allow a slow walk through the room to let me get my fill. There’s a worn spot about a quarter of our way through the room, within one of the pools of light. Frisk makes a point to avoid it, so I mirror them and do the same from the other side, glancing back at the spot over my shoulder once we’re beyond it. Honestly, I feel like the child being led through by the adult, I know so little. And Frisk knows too much.

 

The world beyond the Judgment Hall is a weirdly wistful perpetuation of the same grey marble. New Home stretches languidly before us from the parapets, the skeletons of thousands of empty homes all squished together across rolling, barren hillsides. Our shoes click quietly across the tile, muffled slightly by the mud caking the soles. Still infinitely too quiet. I swallow the lump in my throat as we enter a covered portion of the parapet, leading directly to a staircase.

 

_“Where does that go?”_ I can’t bring myself to speak this time, getting the impression that we may not be quite alone.

 

_“Mom and Asgore’s house. Before everything happened.”_

 

_“Everything meaning?”_

_“With the first fallen child.”_

_“Ch--?”_  
  


_“Let’s get moving.”_ Frisk cuts me off, ascending the stairs fairly quickly. I drop my hands, a bit bewildered as I hurry after them, up into what must be the keep. This portion of the area lives up to its name, at least as much as I can see. Hardwoods cover the floor, providing a bit more warmth and life, though just about everything sight is covered in dust.

 

As we reach the last landing, the floorboards on the level above us give a loud creak as something shuffles across them, towards us. I flinch back, retreating a step or two. Frisk stands still, listening closely and staring at the top of the staircase. Sure enough, an imposing shadow shambles into view, towering and blocky in its shape.

 

“Howdy, Frisk.” The dark form’s voice rumbles forth, hoarse from disuse. He turns his head to catch the light behind him, revealing his identity as the disgraced King of all monsters. “And… hm. I do not believe we’ve met, human.”

 

“____.” I just barely avoid a horrific crack in my voice, gathering my nerves as best as I can.

 

“Well, come on up. I’m sure there’s a reason for your visit.” Asgore disappears smoothly into another room, his presence only betrayed by the noise from the floorboards.

 

_“…are we okay going forward?”_ I sign to Frisk as soon as Asgore’s out of sight.

 

_“We should be. Follow my lead. If I think it’s getting out of hand, I’ll let you know. But he could have an idea of what’s going on, so we should ask him what he knows.”_ I nod in agreement, allowing Frisk to lead the way up into what’s more like a little suburban home than the home of a royal family. More golden flowers are present here, still dead, placed intermittently throughout the home in places where they likely spread a little light in the monotony.

 

Off his rocker, I’d heard. Crazy. Lost it, even Sans admitted that much. Tread carefully, I warn myself as we approach him in the sitting room. Flames lap at the fireplace, but it doesn’t seem to emit any heat. In fact, the room feels rather cold, and I clutch my rainjacket tighter around myself as I take a seat in the chair at the table Asgore indicates for me. Frisk sits next to me, and Asgore takes his place at the head of the table. Up close, I can see time has not been too kind to the king. His face is worn and his beard only displays small wisps of blonde hair amongst a vast amount of grey, a mirror of his kingdom. He’s an odd mixture of casual and regal clothing, worn jeans and an old sweatshirt enveloped in a heavy purple cloak, and then wrapped in gold armor. It’s difficult not to stare, but I force myself to fixate on his massive horns. At least they’re close to his eyes.

 

“Would either of you like some tea?” I nod, assuming it’s better to accept his polite offer than to decline it. Frisk nods as well, and I start to stand, thinking I should be the one to start the kettle. However, before I can get out of my chair, Asgore’s already gone to the kitchen. Blinking, I settle back in my seat, finding everything about this odd.

 

_"He's always like this."_ Frisk smiles as if they’re reassuring themselves as well. The fact that they’re finding comfort in his behavior eases my mind significantly, and I relax as much as I can.

 

The lapse in tension allows me to survey my surroundings a bit further. The keep stretches off behind us, seeming to strictly hold a handful of private bedrooms. Otherwise, the home is particularly barren. Framed photographs have been shoved facedown to the surfaces they rest on; the cushy-looking recliner by the fire seems to have been intentionally neglected, a thin film of dust covering its exterior. It’s clear Asgore made an attempt at depersonalizing the space, and failed miserably, instead drawing deeper veins into the painful parts of his past. The kettle whistles after a few mere moments, and I reel myself in again.

 

“Thank you.” I murmur as Asgore deposits a mug of tea before me, and then Frisk before taking his seat once more.

 

“You’re quite welcome.” Asgore chuckles kindly, playing with the teabag submerged in his mug as he speaks. “It’s odd. Before Frisk freed us, this kind of tea was extraordinarily difficult to come across. Demand outweighed supply by far.” I shift uncomfortably in the hard-backed chair at the topic he’s selected. Abruptly, I acquire the impression that Asgore’s benevolent demeanor is just one half of a two-faced personality. I’m aware the Underground suffered most of all from overpopulation, but hearing about it directly from someone who obviously knew what was going on and couldn’t do anything to stop his people’s suffering is a bit disconcerting. Along with the fact that he’s bringing it up in the presence of the SOUL that saved all monsters from their eternal trappings. “Now, there’s almost too much of the stuff lying around. I doubt I’ll be able to finish it all even for the rest of my days.”

 

_“I don’t know about that, Asgore. You drink quite a bit of it.”_ Frisk tries to deflect, a wry little simper spreading over their cheeks. 

 

“Perhaps.” A low laugh rumbles from the king, and he pauses to take a sip from his mug. “So, as for the reason for your visit… Would you like to elaborate?” Frisk blinks at something he’s said, motioning for me to explain in their stead.

 

“We’ve encountered a… problem of sorts on the Surface… I’d been researching SOULs and the traits they correspond to, and their correlation with violent tendencies with Dr. Alphys and Sans. We’d really only just begun with collecting information from human SOULs when something went wrong, and our head of the department was… I don’t know, possessed, I think. Sans described it that way, that that was his theory. Anyway, the department head’s SOUL was taken, presumably Underground. Sans came after it, but since he’s been gone, the… Thing, whatever it is, came back and took Alphys too. But instead of taking her SOUL, it dragged her down here.” It’s significantly more than a “problem” at this point; I chide myself for poor word choice. A “problem” would be “aw shit, we goofed a little”. This is certainly not “goofing a little”. Lives hang in the balance and here I am calling that a “problem”. If it were appropriate of me to smack myself in the face in the king’s presence, I would.

 

_“Have you seen anything down here that might be related?”_ Frisk supplements my inept description with the question we really need answered. Asgore scratches his chin briefly, appearing to be thinking, then reports back.

 

“Unfortunately, no. I wasn't even aware Sans had returned… Where is he now?” His affect is a bit flat considering he’s just been told his own royal scientist has been kidnapped and possessed. Based on Sans’s almost visceral reaction to just telling me about possession without too much of an emotional connection to the then-victim of it, Dr. Abernathy, I’m thrown somewhat.

 

_“We don’t know that much. We tried calling him, but it didn’t quite go through.”_ Frisk answers readily, though their expression reflects the confusion I’m feeling.

 

“Hm… Well, I wonder.” Asgore takes a sip of his tea, leaning back in his chair and mulling over the information we’ve given him. In the lull in conversation, I check my phone as subtly as I can underneath the table, a text notification from Sans present. Relief immediately floods my mind, and I open the SMS.

 

 

_Sans (2:03PM)_

_what’s up?_

_xxx-xxx-xxxx (2:10PM)_

_Well, Frisk and I are talking to Asgore right now. There’s a lot, I can’t text it all._

_Sans (2:10PM)_

_excuse me?_

_-i thought i was patell-in’ you not to pull my leg about something like that, lol._

I glance up from the screen to make sure I’m not being terribly rude, finding Asgore’s shut his eyes to savor the taste of the tea. Frisk, however, provides me with a questioning expression, which I answer.

 

_“Sans.”_ Frisk nods, jerking their head over at Asgore.

 

_“He’ll ask who you’re talking to. Careful.”_

_xxx-xxx-xxxx (2:12PM)_

_No, Sans, I’m 100% serious right now. We’re Underground, talking to Asgore._

There’s a soft noise, like a single drop of water landing on the floor, and my head jerks up once more. Nothing appears to have changed. Frisk shuffles their mug around between their hands, smiling very slightly at me when I look to them.

 

 

_Sans (2:14PM)_

_run. right now, fucking run._

The next time I look up, a black substance drips off Asgore’s hands, melting against the mug clenched too-tightly, pattering off the table and onto the floor.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SO I'm gonna try my ass off to get the next chapter out on Saturday, but maybe hopefully earlier? We'll see how my Friday goes with work... it's already looking questionable. (⊙ヮ⊙) BUT, next week I'll be in another city again with nothing to do but study and write... Who knows. Point is, don't you guys worry. I gotcha. :x Thank y'all so much for reading! Tell me how you're liking it so far!   
> Also, would anyone be interested in a playlist for this work? I have a lot of stuff I listen to specifically for this fic, so if anyone's interested I'd be happy to construct one.   
> HOOPLAH! TUMBLAH!: onthewingsoficarus.tumblr.com  
> A loosely connected one-shot, Paper Sun: http://archiveofourown.org/works/6724012


	29. Bleeding Crown

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "They gathered all the children outside the church,  
> And never would they know what went on in there.  
> Close the door and hear all the angels scream,  
> "Oh mercy, mercy, mercy, oh mercy, please!"  
> Down, down, down  
> Down below you can hear his hoof digging through the ground"
> 
> Chapter music here if you so choose: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=YlWke6jK4rI
> 
> Violence ahead this chapter!

Frisk and I leap to our feet simultaneously, ready to bolt; I assume they saw the sludge at the same time I received Sans’s text.

“Please… Wait.” Asgore’s eyes remain closed as he lifts the mug to his mouth, hands visibly trembling, though he completes the sip before lowering the mug carefully back to the table. “I don’t have much time, but allow me to inform you of how much I do know…”

I cast an uneasy look Frisk’s way, hinging on sprinting right out of New Home, but Frisk’s expression betrays a sad compassion for the old king.

_“Just for a minute…”_ They sign, clenching their jaw and turning their attention back to the king. Since they’re dead-set on listening, I shuffle over to their side, grasping ahold of their shirt. They appear to get my meaning, nodding slightly.

When Asgore senses we haven’t yet fled, a small simper quirks up the edges of his mouth. “I’m glad you, at least out of all humans, still trust me enough to hear me, Frisk.” Their face steels over as if affronted, back straightening. “The Underground is dying.” Asgore states with a defeated sigh, and Frisk clearly flinches at the news. They lift their hands, then drop them feebly. Asgore has yet to open his eyes again, nor has he given any indication he’ll actually listen to any kind of questioning. “Frisk, as you know, the CORE sustains life down here in the Underground.” His voice grows increasingly bitter as he speaks, pointedly ignoring the fact that I’m present. “Initially, we thought the energy it produced was a result of a conversion of geothermal energy into electrical. However, after living down here for a few years by myself, it’s become quite apparent that this is not the case.”

Covering his mouth, Asgore hacks out a disgustingly wet cough, not bothering to glance at his hand before wiping it on his jeans. Murky plasma smears across the denim, and I clutch Frisk’s shirt tighter, silently begging them to forget about this tangent.

“I’ve discovered the hard way, you could say, that the CORE was pulling on the magic in all of our SOULs to produce the energy we needed rather than drawing from the vast amount of geothermal energy present down here.” There’s a wry little chuckle as Asgore wraps his hands around the mug once more, as if it’s the only thing restraining him at the moment. Frisk tenses beside me, their mouth propped slightly open.

Asgore shifts in his seat, a growl escaping his throat after a moment. “As the only one down here to… ah… make any kind of contribution, neither myself nor the Underground will make it much longer.”

“Frisk.” I hiss lowly, giving their shirt a meaningful tug and taking a step toward the exit. They refuse to move, simply remaining in place as the proverbial black hole of discomfort in my belly expands exponentially, shifting into fear as the mug cracks in Asgore’s gradually clenching fists. Piping hot tea gushes from his hands and onto the table, but he remains seated and fairly even-toned.

“We’d been played for fools all this time… by a man we believed we could trust.” He looks down at the fragments of ceramic material embedded in his palms, inky black fluid falling in place of what should be blood. Enough of the substance has gathered on the table and floor to begin writhing, twisting on itself as it attempts to form into the appendages that have chased Frisk and I this far. “Weakening us all bit by bit until we fell victim to his influence. Truly, this was a clever plan. The only thing that brought it to an end was you.” Asgore’s gaze rises to meet Frisk’s, and for what feels like an eternity, we stand in dead air.

“…who did this to you and Alphys…?” Eventually, I cannot tolerate the silence any longer. My voice quakes; my innards feel as if they’ll turn inside-out. We have to leave, now.

The king levels his bloodshot eyes on me and opens his mouth as if to answer, but only a garbled gurgle comes forth. There’s an odd moment between this one and the next in which I can’t do anything but stare at the much-too-dark slobber dripping from Asgore’s mouth as he staggers to his feet, though my mind screams at me to run, to do what Sans instructed. My heart’s beating so fast, it feels like it’s about to pound out of my chest, and then it does. My SOUL’s there, floating in front of me unbidden, and Frisk’s is soon to follow. One from Asgore, a white heart, upside down, attempts to do the same, but is tugged promptly back inside of his body by the rapidly assimilating darkness. A scant amount of green light spurts forth just as his SOUL is squeezed slightly too hard just before it slips back into his chest.

“But a SOUL could fix all of this… Two would certainly set me free.” His deep rumble of laughter thunders in my head, shaking me to my core as his eyes roll back up in his head. “So just hold still, humans. This won’t hurt any more than necessary.” With a shimmer of crimson light, a trident appears in Asgore’s slicked-over hands, black and oily in color.

Frisk moves first, crashing headlong into me and forcing me to move as well. The both of us tumble to the floor as the trident smashes through the table and into the spot on the floor I’d just been standing in. Wooden splinters hail upon us, and I lean over my SOUL instinctively to protect it from harm as Frisk does the same beside me.

_“Run!”_ Frisk scrabbles to their feet, signing rapidly, and this time I don’t hesitate to listen to that order.

Dashing to the front door of the keep, I pry at the handle, crying out, “It’s locked!”

Frisk slams their body full-force against the heavy wooden door, unable to make it budge. The trident comes down once more, and Frisk and I are forced to split up to dodge effectively.

“Fuck!” Wildly, I look around for any sort of escape, any sort of weapon, some way to defend us. Out of the corner of my eye, I find gardening tools lingering by the fire in place of fireplace pokers, and after the next swipe, I lunge for them. I manage to grab a shovel off the rack, spinning back around and raising it horizontally above my head just as Asgore brings his trident down. The brutal metal-on-metal blow sends vibrations from the shovel down my arms and into my shoulders, so hard I almost drop my makeshift defense. I look beyond our crossed weapons to Asgore’s face, finding his pristine white fur rapidly greying, the last figments of blonde fading completely out of his beard. There’s victory in his expression; he knows I can’t win this fight. I’m going to die, I realize. Speared through by a trident.

My thoughts of demise are interrupted by an infuriated roar as Frisk drags Asgore’s head back hard by his horns, having scaled his cape in order to reach them. He tosses his head roughly in an attempt to throw Frisk off, but they’re determined to hang on. Asgore retaliates by swinging the trident over his head, and Frisk only just dodges the sharp points of the weapon by tucking themselves as close to Asgore’s back as possible. Sensing it’s only a matter of time before Frisk meets the fate I’d resigned to, I throw down my shovel, running at Asgore with a furious yell and grabbing onto the handle of his trident.

From a distance, I suppose it likely looks amusing, two humans dangling off a massive goat monster. Frisk and I prove to be pesky, with determination and perseverance amongst our trio of traits, and the struggle draws out for several miraculous moments.

Everything comes crashing down as Frisk and I are both grabbed by the waist, trunk-like black tendrils encircling our torsos and dragging us off of the king. Thoroughly enraged, Asgore swings his trident wide, and in my wild flailing as I’m tossed about, I’m unable to protect my SOUL from the hit. For several seconds, I feel as if I’m on fire both inside and out, shrieking at the flood of agony directly to a place I didn’t even know could experience pain of that magnitude. Shocked that I could experience such visceral pain from an ethereal entity within my being, my struggling fades briefly, overwhelmed. Through the blur of my own distress, Frisk’s faint gasp of pain registers, and I know they’ve taken a blow as well. I’m unsure of how much more I can endure if a single strike can inflict that much damage, and I squirm desperately anew to escape as the tentacles bring Frisk and I around to face Asgore’s warped face.

“Time to die.” There’s something horribly off about his voice when he opens his mouth, singsong and high-pitched, like there’s nothing left of the man beneath the madness.

Just before Asgore can follow through with his declaration, the front door, completely covered in blue magic, crashes unceremoniously to the floor, framing Sans’s lazed figure in the doorway. The king freezes, and all three of us turn our heads at breakneck speed to face the new arrival. My heart immediately swells with a hundred thousand blessings to the skies above; maybe we have a chance now.

“die laughing, maybe. this is a new low, even for you.” He rolls his neck, his vertebrae giving off a tiny succession of pops.

“I suggest you stay out of matters you do not understand, Sans.” A roiling hiss slides out of Asgore’s mouth as he directs more of his attention onto Sans as opposed to Frisk and me. As a result, our bonds seem to slip a little as well. Even still, I’m terrified, for him and for us humans. Sans is weaponless, and though I know he’s stronger than I ever could have imagined, this is Asgore. King of all monsters. Surely that correlates to strength.

An idle smile stretches across Sans’s face as he raises his hands innocently, shrugging. “i’ve always known a little more than you thought, pal. you’re hardly asgore anymore though.” He steps a few paces forward, his movement too languid for someone about to enter a fight. “the real asgore would have at least had some qualms about killing two innocents.”

“You’re actually more foolish than I initially thought if you believe that child is **_innocent_**.” Asgore jerks his head venomously toward Frisk, and I’m instantly bewildered.

“hey now, who’s the judge here?” Sans remains lackadaisical up until his right eye gutters into complete blackness as his left eye flares aqua blue, at which point he leans forward on the balls of his feet, casting off a series of bony projectiles towards us, slicing us free just as his brother did in the world above. Yelping in spite of myself, I manage to hit the ground running, making a mad dash for Sans just as magic explodes around me. I know nothing more to do than run, shoving my SOUL at my chest as hard as I can, though it refuses to go back where it belongs. I don’t look back until I’m past Sans, grasping onto the doorframe to stop myself. Frisk is hardly past Sans when he heaves up a massive wall of bone to impede Asgore’s path.

“go!” In a few short blips, Sans has Frisk by the arm, and then me. I have only enough time to see Asgore burst through Sans’s final defensive effort before the entire scene falls away as I’m pulled straight into the darkness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Asgore strikes me as a more easily influenced person. He's obviously committed some atrocities in his past (killing kids is probably a bad thing lol. We don't know if those kids were on genocide routes or not, but I elected to believe they likely were on neutral routes, or no-mercy. But it's hard to believe personally that a Kindness or Patient SOUL would have actively sought out and killed monsters on their routes, at least). Un-possessed, my Asgore is certainly kinder, remorseful, but not very strong resolve-wise. He only barely got himself through all the fights with Frisk in-game. The poor guy unfortunately has been left Underground with all the bad stuff going on, so it's likely he was the first one to be overcome with the nastiness I've concocted lmfao. He's such a complex character, I really do like him a lot.  
> Author is going to another city for training today and at night will have nothing to do but write. But during the day I'm going to be stuck in class again (with my work computer, which is owned by the state, sooooo I definitely can't be on any Undertale there lol). However, I realized when I have an idea I definitely just need to get it down, as opposed to praying I'll remember it lmfao.  
> Let me know what you guys think! I really enjoyed talking to all of you guys last chapter and I'm so glad you're enjoying this journey far. Remember, it's going to get significantly darker from here, and I will be putting chapter warnings and summaries for anything that I believe would be concerning. That doesn't include graphic violence for me, but if you'd like me to, please let me know. Thank you for reading!


	30. Ignorance

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The very lovely [Lavender_chan](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Lavender_chan/pseuds/Lavender_chan) was all too kind and gave me a very kind recommendation on her fic [Hell is a Place on the Surface](http://archiveofourown.org/works/6776788/chapters/15487570). I'd never thought about recommending people and fics in this way, but this is a great idea! "Hell is a Place on the Surface" isn't afraid to delve darker implications of the monsters coming Surface-side. Lavender_chan accurately explores a very unique power dynamic between her Sans and Reader, and I love every bit of it! While you're waiting on my incredibly slow ass to get chapters out, I definitely recommend dropping by and giving her fics a read if you haven't yet! 
> 
> Not sure how happy I am with this chapter, bah. My brain's been completely melted by training and the people I'm with... As I expected, I'll get an urge to write like the minute my trainer starts talking about something important, and then I'll lowkey feel like ripping my face off. I literally wrote on sticky-notes for a lot of this chapter so... blame post-it haha. T_T Hope you all enjoy!

Our re-entrance into reality is the furthest thing from graceful. I’m hardly able to recognize the fact that I’m falling until I’m already face-first in the ground. Spitting wet blades of grass back into the dirt, I bring myself up to my hands and knees, looking over my shoulder to find Frisk has also landed awkwardly. Sans reappears after the both of us, neatly on his feet, but storming towards Frisk.

 

“Sans…?” Still combing over my tongue with my fingers, I’m completely confused until I realize Sans is, indeed, intending on directing his anger towards Frisk. “Sans, stop!” I scramble to my feet, nearly choking on the knot of pain in my chest and unable to intervene as Sans grabs Frisk by the front of their shirt.

 

“you, of all people, knew better than to come back here! and you brought _her_ too?! what were you _thinking_ , frisk?!” Frustration contorts his features until he almost looks to be on the verge of tears. Is he scared?

 

_“Sans, listen to me, I didn’t mean to—“_ Frisk can barely get their hands up to respond, squeezing their eyes shut as if they’re frightened by Sans’s behavior.

 

“mean to?! you came down here, after everything, after you swore you wouldn’t! and i just had to stand up for you _again—“_

 

“Sans, leave them alone! Frisk didn’t do anything!” Their fear propels me forward, to try to get between them and Sans.

 

“no, you don’t understand! you don’t know anything about this place, or them! and that’s the fucking problem!” Sans’s expression is wild and distressed enough to lock me in place just before I can get in between them, but not enough to stop me from defending Frisk verbally.

 

“We came after Alphys! I’m an adult and I had a choice in this probably even more than Frisk did!” Sans scoffs at me, but he releases Frisk, so I know I’ve done my part. Upon being freed however, Frisk empties the last of the contents of their stomach directly onto the ground at Sans’s feet. “Shit.” I bend down beside them to try to wipe their mouth, receiving a queasy, but grateful expression in return. In that moment, I’m able to take in our surroundings, finding myself faced down by a huge, angry fish-shaped house. The window-eyeholes and door-mouth appear to have been gutted out by flames, char marks surrounding each opening.

 

“…did you say alphys?” Sans finally speaks up again, only slightly reined in, and I look back over my shoulder to face him.

 

“I did.” I admit with an air of bitterness, irrationally irritated with his attitude.

 

“we can’t stay here.” Sans’s hard phalanges encircle my arm abruptly, and I’m just about to pull away when a loud crash sounds from inside the burnt-out house. All three of us are thrown immediately on edge, but when nothing else follows the noise, Sans renews his efforts. “come on, now. we have to go.” He sounds a little more urgent, but I’m still a little bit pissed.

 

“No! Not until somebody explains to me straight up what the HELL is going on—!“ Another, much louder and closer crash sounds, and I flinch hard, turning quickly. Tentacular appendages tug Alphys’s relatively limp form out of one of the broken windows; we can’t seem to cut a break. Her glasses have gone missing somewhere along the way, nasty pink foamy saliva dribbling down her broken-open jaw and onto her lab-coat. There doesn’t appear to be anything remaining of the fight she’d had initially on the Surface; her body’s just a sad husk embodied by the creature that’s overtaken her. Backstepping instinctively, I move right into Sans, and his arms automatically come around me. He holds one outstretched towards Alphys, the other keeping me close. This time, I don’t question him, merely glancing back at him to see if he has any ideas of what to do. Instead, I find raw grief across his features, his nearly ever-present grin downturned in malaise at Alphys’s horrific condition.

 

Together, Sans has us both take another step back, closer to Frisk. The movement seems to alert Alphys to our presence, a guttural growl leaving her throat. With the tentacles’ assistance, her body’s forced to move like a clumsy iteration of a predator on a slow prowl.

 

“i’m going to let you go. i need you to grab frisk, and i’ll handle the rest.” Sans speaks lowly, close to my ear, and I nod almost imperceptibly in response. I can do this. He allows a few more seconds to pass, then disappears completely from sight. And I find myself in the creature’s sights.

 

I don’t know if I can do this.

 

A short shriek escapes me as I dodge beneath its lunge, and I slip across the wet grass for an instant before I regain my footing. Frisk holds their hand up to me, and I haul them to their feet as I dash by. Just as I begin to wonder what I’m supposed to do next, Sans proves true to his word once again, stepping in and leveling a series of white and blue bones at Alphys. The creature balks, heaving an inhuman shrill screech as it awkwardly avoids what it can. A couple projectiles find their marks and the beast is quick to punish us for it, making a sick spectacle out of twisting Alphys’s lower left leg until it dislocates with a nasty series of pops. This time, however, there is no sound of pain from her wilting body. Sans instantly reins in his attacks, expression wrought with horror, but he forces himself to continue attempting to pinpoint its weaknesses and playing defense almost effortlessly instead. Almost.

 

“O-oh god…” is the only thing I can manage to eek out, supporting Frisk weakly as they wretch on the ground once more and half-dragging them a short distance behind a thick post near the house.

 

Moments of this wild cat-and-mouse later, it catches Sans by the ankle as he attempts to skirt over a tendril. Avoiding the fall, he simply changes locations, teleporting directly to Frisk and me. Anguished, he grasps our hands tightly, pulling us hurriedly to our feet as the creature begins to search us out.

 

“we have to go.” Sans repeats himself, clearly reeling on his feet. I clutch Frisk close, nodding to Sans to give him the go-ahead. Within the next second, the three of us slip away yet again into oblivion.

 

I lift my head as Sans’s hand slips from mine, the bare branches of a dead tree fracturing from the trunk like black lightning above. Taking a step back elicits a _crunch_ from the ground below, oddly still-bright auburn leaves gathered about the base of the tree and at my feet. Upon looking around, Frisk appears to relax significantly, their eyes settling on a dilapidated home just beyond the tree, framed on either side by the same red leaves. The color reflects sharply off the rough purple slate surrounding us, indicative that we are, indeed, still in the Underground.

 

“i need you to stay here with frisk. this is hallowed ground; you should be safe.” Sans’s voice sounds deadened, empty of any emotion.

 

“Surely you aren’t going back out there...” I’m immediately resistant to that idea, widening my stance, though I’m a bit shaky on my feet.

 

“i have to, sweetheart.” Finally, a little inflection; he’s strained but trying to be gentle now that our lives aren’t in immediate danger. “both you and the kiddo need food, and i don’t know for sure how long we’ll be down here.”

 

“Papyrus sent for Undyne… we ran into him before we came down here. So hopefully not for long…” I try to instill a little hope at seeing him so downtrodden, but the idea of Undyne and possibly Papyrus descending to our level proves to be no comfort to him.

 

“i’ve gotta go. make like some hay and bail.” Sans adds on lamely, beginning to back away.

 

_“Sans, is what Asgore said true?”_ Frisk clambers to their feet, staring at him with an expression betraying even more bewilderment about this whole situation than I’m experiencing.

 

“i don’t know, kiddo.” Sans heaves a heavy sigh, the lights of his eyes very dim. Sweat beads against his brow, and he stuffs his hands in his hoodie, rocking anxiously back on his heels. “i just don’t know.” He starts to turn to leave, then stops, apprehension washing over his face as he diverts his attention back to me. “listen, sweetheart, just please. don’t leaf, okay? promise me.” It’s not a request, but I still nod regardless.

 

“I promise. We’ll stay right here…” His features instantly soften in relief and it takes every fiber in my being not to rush right into his arms. And I don’t know why I’m stopping myself from doing so.

 

“head inside when you’re ready. i’ll be back soon.” With that, he’s gone, leaving Frisk and I in silence.

 

“…want to go in?” I ask gently of Frisk after a moment, receiving a brief little nod. “Okay.” Drawing their arm over my shoulders, I lead them around the tree and through the unlocked door into the house. At that point, Frisk separates themselves from me, bracing themselves with one hand against the wall as they navigate clearly-familiar territory to locate the light switch. The bulbs above flicker tenuously to life, prompting me to inquire, “are there any candles in here?”

 

_“Probably in the kitchen. I’ll be right back.”_ Frisk shuffles off to our left, leaving me to survey the home from the doorway. I quickly come to the realization that this is an exact replica of the keep in New Home, save for the wear and tear. The more lived-in feel provides a significant level of comfort, where the keep left me uneasy, and I relax as best as I can with the knowledge that Sans wouldn’t leave us anywhere he wasn’t sure was safe.

 

Frisk returns bearing two candlesticks and a book of matches, handing one of the sticks to me. As they strike the match to light both, the flare-up of the flame illuminates a significant amount of tension in the shadows lapping over their face, though they disappear the instant the flame finds its home on the wick. Smiling wryly up at me, Frisk pockets the matches, then raises their hands.

 

_“There are more matches and candles in the drawer next to the refrigerator. We can light a fire too.”_

 

“That sounds good to me.” Allowing Frisk to lead the way, I carry the candlestick into the sitting room, finding yet another comfy-looking armchair accompanied by a bookshelf and a table with three place-settings. I scrunch my face up, recognizing there were four place-settings in New Home, but decide not to question it too much as I make my way over to the fireplace. Two fairly good-sized and very dry logs have likely lingered within the fireplace since this place was abandoned, but they’ll certainly do. Within moments, the living room flows to the brim with warm radiance; Frisk and I are both tucked as close to the fire as the heat allows.

 

_“I hope what Asgore said wasn’t true.”_ Finally, Frisk’s relative silence on the subject begins to crack, and I don’t feel as bad about unleashing my typical torrent of questions—turned hurricane-force by the insane surrounding circumstances.

 

“If it is, do you think it’s something that can be fixed?” They ponder my query momentarily before responding noncommittally.

 

_“Maybe.”_

 

“So, where are we now?” Sensing Frisk’s rising discomfort, I attempt to change the subject.

 

_“The Ruins. This is where I wound up when I first fell. Toriel led me here and took care of me and fed me cinnamon-butterscotch pie for the first time.”_ They appear to swallow a lump in their throat, and I wince at my poor choice of conversation material. _“We’ll be safe here. Sans is right.”_

 

“Okay… well, that’s good at least.” Pause. “You doing okay?” Yes, that’s a good start.

 

_“Yeah.”_ A reserved shrug indicates they’re not being completely truthful. _“This place just brings up bad memories sometimes…”_ It takes them a minute to decide on their disclosure, their signing slow and cautious.

 

“Which part of it?”

 

Frisk takes a moment to ponder their response, looking away and then signing, _“All of it.”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A slight slow-down here, but the shitshow (tm) is just kicking off. We'll be seeing an old friend next chapter, so mentally prepare yourselves! =) *cue evil laugh track*  
> Only two more days of training! I'll keep writing on post-its!   
> Also, whoa, we broke 300 Kudos! It's so awesome to hear from you all! When I first put this story out there, I didn't think I'd have any readers, so seeing all of your support is really helpful for me. Thank you all so much!


	31. Overgrown

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Back at home for a little while, yay! There's mild violence and blood mention in this chapter, but nothing horrific.  
> I went on a run right before posting this chapter and now I can't really think straight lmfao.  
> But I hope you guys enjoy meeting an old friend! =)

Night comes and goes, though it isn’t clearly observable in this part of the Underground. Frisk explains there are a few places where one could see the sky above change from night to day and back again, but that the closest one involves us moving through the Ruins to the hole they fell through. And I’m not about to break my promise.

 

So we judge time with our cell phones. I attempt to be sparing about my use, but holy shit is it irritating to see no fluctuation in the amount of light and know the next time I look at my phone, it’ll mockingly state that no time has passed. Or occasionally, that too much has passed.

 

I’m not able to find sleep until about 4:00AM, in spite of how exhausted I am. Sans sent along a text sometime in the night to let us know he’s safe, with a small suggestion.

 

 

_Sans (5:21AM)_

_hey, sweetheart, i just wanted to let you know i’m alright. but since you’re left down here, i think it’s a good idea to have frisk teach you about combat._

_-fighting’s a bit different here._

_\--just have them show you. i’ll be back later on today._

_xxx-xxx-xxxx (10:01AM)_

_I’ll ask if they’re willing to impart some knowledge._

_-See you soon, boneboy. :)_

I feel pretty lame about the text as soon as I send it, leaning my head back heavily against the hard-backed chair at the kitchen table. Frisk hasn’t permitted me or themselves to sit anywhere else, namely the cushy armchair by the fire, so here I am. Texting my skeletal boyfriend and feeling oddly apathetic for some reason. Maybe it’s the sense of impending doom towering over me and everything I’ve done since I first noticed that dark spot on the camera footage. God, that feels like forever ago. I don’t expect an immediate reply from Sans, but I get one, and in spite of the vortex of crappiness buzzing about my emotions, my SOUL gives a sweet little leap at what he sends back.

 

 

_Sans (10:04AM)_

_see you, sweetheart. love ya. :)_

My brain conjures up the real smile beyond the emoticon, pained and likely miserable. But he’s trying, so damnit all down if I can’t reciprocate.

 

 

_xxx-xxx-xxxx (10:05AM)_

_love you too. :)_

This isn’t the worst thing in the world that could possibly happen, and I have to continue thinking that way. Sans is clearly capable of taking care of himself, as well as Frisk and me when required. I just have to trust him. He was able to get out of the Underground once; certainly he’d be able to do it again. I even have the ambassador, the one who led them all out, down here with me. Yeah. We’ll be out of here in no time.

 

Re-shelving the strange selection on snail facts in its place on the bookshelf, I navigate my way through the home on the hunt for Frisk, toting my candlestick along for the ride. Before going off on their own way, Frisk detailed the contents of the home for me, forbidding me from doing much of anything. Like sitting in the armchair, or exploring any of the rooms except for the “kids’ room” as they called it, or attempting to scavenge in the kitchen. They informed me that Toriel’s room is also located on the same hallway, along with another room that is “under construction”, which brings me to wonder how it can still be under construction if there’s no one down here to do any “construction”. Regardless, I pad across the hardwood floor to the one room I’m allowed in down this hallway, knocking on the door before entering.

 

Sitting languidly on the floor, Frisk plays indifferently with a few toys they’ve managed to scrounge up that are obviously very far below their age level. They’d likely give anything for a laptop right now. They quirk up about half a smile when I step into the room before looking back down at their selection of objects to occupy their attention, eventually settling on a yo-yo. Their complexion looks a lot better without anything in their stomach to purge, and it’s been several hours since I’ve seen them need to use the restroom. Hopefully, that indicates their food poisoning has officially drawn to a close. I ease onto the floor in front of them, and they begin to untangle the string before they’re able to play with it.

 

“You doing okay in here?” Frisk replies with a short little nod, so I proceed. “I just got in touch with Sans. He said he’ll be back soon, but I wanted to let you know something else he said.”

 

 _“What was it?”_ They answer before finishing off their job and winding the string around the yo-yo.

 

“He suggested that you teach me about combat… I guess with my SOUL; I’m pretty sure that’s what Alphys mentioned about survival down here.” My voice hitches up just a little, but I force myself to say her name, like it’ll keep her consciousness around.

 

 _“Yeah, that probably wouldn’t be a bad thing for you to learn…”_ Frisk seems to mull over the idea, nodding to themselves. _“Let’s go ahead and go over the basics. Then we’ll go outside by the tree and spar.”_

 

“As long as we don’t hit each other…” I provide that stipulation, to which they agree.

 

_“Alright so… FIGHTing. It’s generally something you, as a human, really want to avoid with monsters. But you should understand it in order to defend yourself too, so here we go.”_

“Why should we avoid it?” Frisk’s brow furrows at my instant questioning, so I attempt to restrain myself.

 

_“Monsters, since they’re composed of pure magic, essentially, are very easy to kill. Their bodies can’t take a lot of physical harm.”_

“Oh shit, I think Sans told me about this, sorry… We’re more water and less magic. So it’s almost impossible for us to use magic, but we can take more hit-wise.” Recalling Sans’s conversation with me about possession, I quiet down and answer my own question.

 

 _“That’s right. We should try to avoid a conflict as much as we can, but if we’re faced with life or death and there’s no other way, then we’ll have to FIGHT.”_ I nod to let Frisk know I’m understanding. _“We typically can also ACT, whether it be dodging an attack or trying to reason with the person who’s attacking us. And we can also use MERCY, which we should always do whenever possible to end the confrontation. These encounters with Asgore and Alphys have been a bit different though; we can’t really reason with them too much. We could with Alphys before, but you saw when I tried to FIGHT whatever has her, it ended up hurting her. So unless we get them separated, we can’t use that option.”_

“What if someone who’s possessed tries to kill you…?” The thought’s honestly been on my mind since this whole thing started. Frisk hesitates on that idea before answering.

 

_“We’ll have to cross that bridge when we get to it. I’ll be alright… You just handle you.”_

“Frisk, you’re a kid though… I’d be responsible if anything happened to you.” Toriel would probably barbecue me alive, considering I’m the one who led them down here.

 

 _“I’ve done this before and I’ll do it again. Trust me, you don’t need to worry about me.”_ Their expression dares me to question their abilities again. I’m able to keep it down, but I really do wonder how they survived in this world, five years younger, truly a child. When six others perished down here. The odds weren’t good then, and realistically, they still aren’t.

 

 _“So, when the confrontation starts, your SOUL will be pulled out. In FIGHTs, it’ll stay right here, in front of your chest.”_ They accompany their description with a gesture, motioning to their sternum. _“Usually it’ll be your normal color, which I guess for you will be indigo… Every monster has a different kind of magic they may use on you, depending on how skilled they are. If everyone was still down here, we’d be dealing with mostly white magic, because that’s the color of most monsters’ SOULs. Other monsters, usually stronger ones, are associated with another color as well. Like, you saw Asgore’s is green.”_

“Jeez, where were you when I was writing my thesis?” My attempt at lightening the mood a little is relatively successful; they smile back at me.

 

 _“In school.”_ Frisk shrugs lightly.

“Why was it upside down though? On the Surface, Sans’s was turned the same way ours is.”

 

 _“He showed you his SOUL?”_ Their eyebrows pop up in surprise before a sly little smirk forms across their face, and I immediately have to backpedal.

 

“Well, yeah, but it’s not what you think! We weren’t even dating at the time!”

 

_“Ooo, even more scandalous.”_

 

“Not what I meant! God…” I come screeching to a halt before mentioning Alphys once questioned me like this before. My grin falters somewhat, but I manage to save it before it slips completely off my mouth. “But really, why was his upside down and Sans’s wasn’t?”

 

 _“I think their SOULs flip as they go from the Surface to Underground… But I don’t really know.”_ They hitch their shoulders up once more. _“That’s the only thing I can think of. Maybe after this, that can be your next experiment!”_ It’s an interesting idea to file away. If we make it out of here.

 

“Maybe. Should we head outside and give this FIGHT thing a try?” I gather my feet beneath me, drawing myself upright and holding a hand out for Frisk to take. They nod, taking my offered hand and standing.

 

 _“Sure! I’ll be right back; meet me outside, okay?”_ Before I can quite question them, they’ve run out of the bedroom. A deflated breath leaves my chest, and I decide to go ahead and do what they asked.

 

The courtyard is as unchanged as the moment we arrived. Same dead tree in the middle. Same bright red leaves piled up around the tree and beneath the house’s windows. Lighting completely stagnant. Yet another sigh on my end. Making my way over to the tree, I flop down amongst the fallen foliage to wait.

 

There are several steps necessary to fix all of this, but it seems like the more we move, the worse everything gets. Sans picked up on it before anybody, unwilling to trust his gut as a result of the fact that he physically lacks one, or perhaps that one of those fissures on his SOUL is indicative of faulted faith in himself. Then everyone who may have had any idea of what was going on couldn't see it, whereof their own accord or not. And one by one, we began to fall. Dr. Abernathy, Alphys, then Asgore…

Which leaves me wondering who’ll be next.

 

Logically, it’d be one of us within easy reach. It doesn’t discriminate between humans and monsters, so that could mean Frisk, Sans, or myself. Or maybe it’d bring another down here with us. The brief, but morbid thought of a tentacular Papyrus crosses my mind, and I shake my head hard to clear it, only filling the void with Sans. Would they sprout from his ribcage like an invasive species of vine, encircling and filling all the empty space between his bones? Or from his spine as has been the case with everyone else? My brain helpfully imagines a tendril sliding out of one of his eyesockets, and I gag instantly. What the fuck’s wrong with me?

 

How are we going to fix this? We don’t even know who the enemy i—?

 

“Howdy!” comes a small voice from the pile of leaves. I snap my head in that direction, looking around. Nobody’s there.

 

The Underground’s doing real wonders for my psyche.

 

Tipping my head back against the tree, I squeeze my eyes shut in an effort to clear my head.

 

"I said, howdy!” The voice sounds closer this time, and I scramble to my feet and out of the pile of leaves. Nope, something’s definitely in there. “Down here!” Grated by irritation, the voice becomes insistent, and I begin to wonder if another child has fallen down, though I was sure the hole’d been sealed, or at least blocked off. Scanning for something out of the ordinary, my eyes reach the only living golden flower I’ve seen so far down here. This one has a face. Which is scowling up at me now. And I’m positive I’ve never seen a monster like this in the five years I’ve seen them on the Surface.

 

“Oh, I’m sorry! I didn’t realize anyone was still down here…” I approach carefully, wary of the fact this monster could easily be corrupted on second glance, as Asgore was, bending down to their level.

 

“Aw, that’s okay! I’m Flowey. Flowey the Flower!” An ear-splitting grin erupts on the flower’s face, well… would be ear-splitting if it had ears. Petal-splitting.

 

“I’m ____. The human?” I answer with a sheepish smile, trying my best to be polite.

 

“Hmm…” Flowey cocks his head at me, catching his… tongue? in his teeth. He’s even more a marvel of anatomy than Sans, and I find myself mirroring the tilt of his head. “You’re new to the Underground, aren’tcha? Golly, you must be so confused. Someone ought to teach you how things work around here!” He continues on without allowing me to answer, and I furrow my brow a little.

 

“Actually, Fr—“

 

“I guess little old me will have to do. Ready?”

 

“I’ll just wait for—“

 

“Here we go!” My SOUL pops right out of my chest, hovering just in front of me as Frisk told me it would, just as it did in our scuffle with Asgore. Did Frisk go to get this Flowey person or…? I’m genuinely confused. “See that heart? That’s your SOUL—“

 

“I know it is. I’m sorry, I don’t want to FIGHT you.” Finally, I speak up, unwilling to keep quiet any longer.

 

"Golly, well, who said anything about FIGHTing? I was just going to share some LV with you.” Flowey’s tone becomes even more sing-songy, somehow, someway.

 

“What’s LV?” Inquiring hesitantly, I glance over my shoulder briefly to see if Frisk is on their way out of the house. When I look back, Flowey’s no longer in the leaf pile, but significantly closer, causing me to take a step back on instinct.

 

“Why, LV stands for LOVE, of course! You want some LOVE, don’t you?” Something about the way he’s speaking puts me on edge, just the slightest bit.

 

“Sorry, it sounds nice, but I just—“ Flowey’s grin contorts shockingly, widening viciously across his androecium. Bullets of white magic pop up in a wide circle surrounding me, and I whirl around in search of an escape, finding none. Except through Flowey.

 

“Y o u  **_i d i o t_** .” Eyes narrowed, I mentally prepare myself to run headlong into this flower, thinking there’s likely no way he’ll be able to prevent me from just barreling over him. “I n  t h i s  w o r l d,  i t ‘ s  **_k i l l  o r  B E  k i l l e d_** .” In quick succession, the bullets fly toward me, one after the other, and I duck, jump, do whatever I can to avoid the initial impact. It works for an instant, but as I begin to charge at Flowey with every intention of getting through him, he kicks up the speed drastically. I can’t avoid being hit in the shoulder as I leap over him.

 

“Jesus fuck—!” I grasp at the wound, finding it’s pierced my clothing, blood on my palm when I have to brace myself for the next wave. So much for negotiation. “Listen here, dickface!” More angry than hurt, I begin to storm back towards him, a shadow falling over him from the other side before I can quite reach him.

 

Flowey turns his smug little grin up at the new combatant, but it immediately falls away the instant recognition sparks in his eyes, muttering bitterly, “Ah shit…”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lol, was that the old friend you were thinking of? Dun-dun-duuuuun!  
> Thank y'all for reading as always! More creppiness and spoop incoming aaaaaAAAAAAH  
> I might update this note later because I feel like a fool right now. x_x  
> EDIT: So, I imagine Flowey's voice sounding something like Bo Burnham, anybody with me? I mean...  
>   
> Come on. It's him.  
> 


	32. Immersion

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'd like to start off by giving [MegRae](http://archiveofourown.org/users/MegRae/pseuds/MegRae) a shout-out! Her story, [Fried Snow](http://archiveofourown.org/works/6764353/chapters/15460213) is masterfully written, complete with heart-wrenching tearjerker moments and some HELLA STEAMY smut. Definitely give her a read!
> 
> Thank you all so much for over 5000 hits! I'm so glad you're enjoying the story; it's awesome hearing from you all. It makes my day to open up my browser when I'm having a tough time at work to see all of your encouragement. You're all wonderful! Hope you all enjoy!

“Leave me alone, you fucking idiot!” Flowey is abruptly more foul-mouthed than even me as Frisk bends down and reaches for him. “What, are you deaf now too?! _L E A V E  M E  A L O N E !_ ” His expression turns venomous once more, hissing cruel words at Frisk, though they simply continue what they were doing. When Frisk doesn’t cease, Flowey lashes out and bites Frisk’s hand, right between the thumb and index finger.

“Hey—!” I close the distance between us quickly, but Frisk glances up, and though they have tears brimming at the edges of their eyes, they shake their head. Hesitantly, I stop a few feet from them, and from here it’s plain to see just how deep Flowey has his teeth in Frisk. Beads of blood bubble around the edges of Flowey’s mouth, staining his androecium a bright crimson. Gradually, his features shift, casting several looks up at Frisk, but clearly not getting the reaction he wanted.

“Bleh…” Huffing a breath, Flowey finally releases Frisk, spitting blood-tainted saliva onto the ground. “Um, excuse you?” The flower-monster renews his snarling when Frisk once again reaches for him, this time snagging Flowey by his stem. “Hey, hey, HEY!” Frisk yanks on his stem, then looks up at him and readjusts his grip lower on the stalk. “What do you think you’re doing?!” Flowey’s petals flare out like a venomous lizard, threatening to strike once more. Before I can object, Frisk tugs Flowey, roots and all, directly out of the dirt.

Flowey’s immediate reaction is one of rage, his face contorting once again into a thing of nightmares. “Think you’re real clever, don’t you?!” Frisk pulls a flowerpot from beside them, and I crouch down in front of them to hold the ceramic container steady. Maybe I’ll get to throw it at the wall when Flowey’s in it. Digging a little hole in the dirt they’ve already placed in the pot, Frisk places Flowey inside it, then pats the dirt over to cover up his roots. “So, let’s think for just a second. I know that’s very hard for you.” And just like that, Flowey’s features are back to normal as Frisk lifts the flowerpot into their lap. “You clearly intend to take me with you. But, ya know, I think that’s really stupid considering _**I  K N O W  W H A T  Y O U  D I D .**_ ”

Apparently, this constitutes Flowey’s typical behavior; Frisk hardly seems fazed. They get back to their feet, taking Flowey directly into the house. Tilting my head, I follow after them. No breaking pots against the wall apparently. Regardless, everything about this flower is unsettling, from his appearance to his accusations… What is he talking about?

“ _We’re taking him back to the Surface with us._ ” Frisk signs when I meet them at the kitchen table.

“Frisk, I don’t know about that. He doesn’t want to go. Are there bandages around here?” I ask so I don’t have to go sifting through anything Frisk doesn’t necessarily want me in. They nod, indicating a set of drawers next to the bookshelf.

“I’m right HERE, you know!” Flowey snaps angrily, obviously still seething. I narrow my eyes at the flower, genuinely considering taking the pot back outside and dumping him in the leaf pile where he’d popped up, before navigating to retrieve bandages from one of the drawers.

“ _We have to. It’s not right for him to be down here by himself_.” Insistent as ever, they continue until I quiet them by taking their injured hand, leading them to the kitchen sink to clean the wound, and then dressing it.

“We’ll see what Sans says.” Arguing with a determined child has proven exhausting so far, as Frisk yanks their hand away from me just before I can finish wrapping their wound to sign in protest.

“ _He’ll just say no!_ ”

“Frisk, Flowey tried to kill me and probably would have done the same to you if given the chance.” I hold my hand out, motioning for them to give theirs back.

“ _He did have the chance! He could have blasted me right then and there, but he didn’t!_ ” As always, Frisk has a point, though I give them a critical look.

“And what would he have done to me if you hadn’t come outside right at that moment?”

“ _He didn’t know you!_ ” Indignant, Frisk folds their arms over their chest, effectively staining their shirt with their still-bleeding hand.

“And he won’t know everyone on the Surface. So maybe you need to teach him some semblance of self-control, then we can talk about the Surface, alright?” That appears to give them an idea, and their frown eases up slightly. “Can I have your hand back now?” They oblige without looking at me, so I accept that as a “fine”. When I finish wrapping their hand, albeit a little sloppily, I release them back unto the world. “Go watch the flower. I’ve got to fix my shoulder.” Frisk heaves a very heavy sigh before doing what I asked, leaving me alone in the kitchen. I look around for some sort of reflective surface, finding only the window, so I resolve to journey to the bathroom to attend to my business.

As I move through the sitting room, Flowey remarks to Frisk, “You know, you look a lot bigger… and uglier than the last time I saw you” and it takes every ounce of restraint I possess not to turn right around and pluck a petal off his head.

I shut the bathroom door behind me, relenting and flipping on the light switch in spite of the intermittent flickering. The candle just won’t do it here. The rainjacket comes off first, followed by Sans’s hoodie, and then my t-shirt, all of which now have holes in the left shoulder. Thoroughly incensed, I stand in my sports bra and reach to feel around my back, locating a hard seed pellet embedded directly in my shoulder. Mouth open in a little shock, I turn around and look over my shoulder, sure enough laying eyes on the magical projectile stuck in my skin. Blood flow’s stuttered to a relative stop by this point, so I attempt to pry the bullet free with my bare hands. I grit my teeth bitterly, only bringing myself pain as I’m unable to yank the pellet out.

Fuck.

Irritable, I pad the area around the wound with gauze and wrap the bandages over it, just leaving it alone for the time being, pulling my clothes back on in spite of the holes, and heading back out into the living room. Nothing more I can do for now. Maybe I can get Frisk to dig it out later, or Sans whenever he returns. Whenever Flowey’s not involved. I flop down back in my chair at the kitchen table, glaring at the flower-monster.

“So, what’s your deal, _human_?” Flowey returns my scowl with equal venom. “How’d you even become involved in this? New players aren’t so easy to come by anymore.” He’s instantly back to smiling again, his polarizing emotions shifting radically.

“I don’t know what you could possibly mean.” I cross my arms against my chest, ignoring the subtle throb in my upper arm and back. Flowey seems to detect my pain regardless, grinning ever-wider.

“So, they haven’t told you all about our dear ambassador and what _exactly_ happened down here five years ago.” He sways back and forth as he speaks. I can’t help but cut my eyes over at Frisk for a brief instant, which appears to feed Flowey’s semi-psychotic glee.

“It can’t be that bad. They’re trying to bring your ungrateful ass up to the Surface.”

“Ooo, naughty words.” Flowey chides me, and I clench my fists under my arms. Why Frisk feels like they have to pander to this asshole, I don’t know.

“ _Flowey, please._ ” They bury their face in their hands for a moment, and Flowey actually appears to balk, grumbling a little to himself.

“Fine.”

* * *

 

Frisk and I eventually resolve to give duking it out another shot, with Flowey as a mere observer this time instead of a too-eager not-invited participant. Flowey sits on the windowsill to watch, frowning and looking over his new confinements within the flowerpot while Frisk and I exchange pulled punches. We manage to occupy ourselves for a while, at least until my left arm feels like it’ll fall off and I have to resort to dodging alone. Frisk forces us to stop on the pretense that “ _it isn’t any fun if you’re not fighting back_ ”, heading into the house to retrieve a glass of water a piece for us.

“You’re quite an oddity, aren’t you?” Flowery cocks his head at me when we’re left alone, and I’m tempted to ignore him before replying against my better judgment.

“Meaning?”

"Why, your SOUL, of course. I’ve never seen one like it.” He scrunches up his face, tilting his head even farther, examining my still-visible bundle of indigo energy. “I wonder what its effect would be in a real fight.” His voice is imbued with a childlike curiosity, rather than his usual meanness, so I make a hesitant try for kindness.

“Uh… I don’t know. It’s a blend though, between integrity and perseverance.”

“Huh. I didn’t know they could do that.” He sounds genuinely perturbed, squinting at me.

“Yeah, I… Sort of studied SOULs on the Surface.” I offer that much information, knowing he’s likely to take any thread I give him and run with it. Which he does.

“Oh, so _that’s_ how you became involved.” Cue eyeroll. “You humans have a really bad tendency of getting into things you really shouldn’t.”

"Why not?" His staring begins to edge on off-putting, so I press my SOUL back into my chest, effectively ending that.

“Well, it’s a good way to get yourself killed, silly.” Deceptively adorable wink. I wonder if I’ll ever hear true kindness in his words.

“What’d you mean by effects in a real fight?” I press onward through his verbal fuckery, wanting a legitimate answer out of him on anything.

“I’ve just never seen indigo magic before. Maybe it’d be something interesting, for once. Not that you could produce any as a human, anyway.” His petals droop slightly, and I open my mouth to ask him about the long face when Frisk returns from indoors with a heaping glass of water.

God, I miss food. Draining the cup doesn’t do much for the gnarly pain coiling in my belly, but my mouth isn’t so dry anymore. My stomach rumbles unhelpfully as the liquid lands in the emptiness. When I look up, Frisk has gone to get themselves another cup, likely suffering even worse than I am as a growing child.

“You wouldn’t know of anywhere to get food around here, would you?” I risk a few more words with Flowey, since he seems to be feeling slightly less hostile at the moment.

“Afraid not. Photosynthesis, you know?” Flowey waves his petals flippantly, and I scrunch up my nose at him.

“Sunlight’s pretty hard to come by down here.”

“Well, aren’t you smart? But for your information, I don’t have to eat. I’m like a cactus.” He explains matter-of-factly, pressing one petal over his stalk.

“You don’t _look_ like a cactus…” Facetious grin.

“No shit, Sherlock.” Casting a glare my way, he then diverts his attention away from me, out onto the unchanging landscape before us.

“You do kind of stick like one though…” I remark after a quiet moment.

“If you want me to apologize, I’m definitely going to disappoint you.”

"I'm aware.” Out of the corner of my eye, I catch Flowey giving me an analytical sidelong glance, clearly still trying to place me. I start to ask him what all the looks are for when Frisk bursts out of the house with their phone in hand.

“ _Sans is on the way!_ ” They bubble happily, then instantly freeze in place, staring blankly at Flowey. “ _Oh, no…_ ”

"What?” My SOUL hurls itself against my ribs, the compress of space-time drawing me. Bewildered by their emotional shift, I remain in place instead of running for the spot gravitational force is strongest, though I’m still inclined to move forward.

And then, he appears out of the nothingness with a faint pop, and I’m sure my SOUL would sing if it could. Sans looks ragged and exhausted, clearly having worked straight through the night, bearing a sack-full of supplies on his back. Finally, I let myself loose, closing the distance between us hurriedly.

“Sans!” Calling out his name in spite of myself, I nearly leap at him, wrapping my arms around his neck. When he moves to bury his face in my shoulder, I shirk at the pain, wincing to myself and causing him to pull back a bit, looking down at me.

“what’s wrong…?” Taking me gently by the upper arms, he searches my face for an instant before Flowey pipes up.

“Oh, _I see_.”

Sans is quick to maneuver me behind him, but I whirl around in an attempt to see what’s happening. “you—!” He begins in a deadly hiss.

“That’s right, smiley trashbag. It’s _me_.” Manic glee spreads across Flowey’s face as he sways in his pot. “Golly, things have really changed around here. This sure is interesting, isn’t it?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, Flowey, VERY INTERESTING.  
> I'm only working a half-day tomorrow because I have a doctor's appointment, so I'm hoping I can get home and write fairly early if all goes well! We'll see... I was so mad earlier this week, I had about 90% of this chapter done Sunday, but couldn't get any time to write the dang end until tonight.  
> As always, thank you for reading! Enjoy the lull becAUSE EVEN WORSE TIMES ARE A COMIN'  
> Hit me up on the tumblah: www.onthewingsoficarus.tumblr.com


	33. Evergreen

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Flowey has a [suggestion](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=M_azCIe_0Kk) for Sans and Reader. (surprise, it's to kill themselves.) Thanks to [imagication](http://archiveofourown.org/users/imagication/pseuds/imagication) for reminding me of this lovely song's existence!  
> Thank you all for reading as always! Hope you enjoy this chapter!

“frisk, get away from him, right now!” Sans barks out the order, his left eye flaring up bright blue as he widens his stance, just waiting for the right moment to plow Flowey over.

 

 _“No! He’s fine, Sans, he’s normal!”_ Defiant as always, Frisk spreads their hands out wide to defend the flowerpot behind them. Flowey appears to falter briefly in his mania, watching the argument unfold with curious intent.

 

“normal or not, you know good and well he’s the root of just about all our problems.” Sans levels his voice out, another meaning layered in his sentence that only Frisk seems to understand.

 

 _“You don’t know him like I do!”_ They unflinchingly remain in their place, eyes narrowed in our direction.

 

“cutting remarks, kiddo. i’d watch that if i were you.” Sans sneers back with an undercurrent of fury I’ve never detected from him up to this point. This time, Frisk cringes visibly, shirking under the weight of Sans’s darkened gaze.

 

“Sans…” Unable to help but murmur his name, I lay one hand flat against his back to get him to cool off. There’s a key fragment of whatever’s going on between the three of them that I’m left without. While I know good and well that Flowey’s not harmless, Sans’s reaction is visceral, deeply engrained, even directed at Frisk. It is by no whim that he’s responding this way, and by now I better than to disregard his instincts. All the same, we can’t fight amongst ourselves. Not now, anyway.

 

“Yeah, Sans, that was pretty rude, if you ask me.” Flowey pipes back up after a moment of deathly silence between the four of us.

 

“well, i didn’t. so you can keep your fucking mouth shut.” Sans storms forward toward the house, both eyes falling into blackness as he stops directly in front of Flowey. “anything _shitty_ out of you, and i swear i will put you so far in the ground you can’t come back.” When Flowey simply stares back at him, Sans throws open the front door and slams it behind him with a force that shakes the structure.

 

The flowerpot rocks back and forth briefly on the ledge of the window, and Flowey observes this motion with a bemused expression on his face before remarking in mock melancholy, “But it’s in my nature to be shitty…” His features shift slightly to concern as Frisk slips to their bottom on the ground and covers their face in their hands, though he says nothing immediately about it. I cast a disapproving glower towards Flowey before following Sans’s path, instead stopping in front of Frisk.

 

“You alright…?” I ask quietly of them, bending down a little closer to their level. In response, they simply inhale deeply and exhale hard. “…Would food make you feel any better? It looks like Sans found some.” Frisk shifts just a tad, and I take that as an affirmative. Because when would food not make someone feel better? “I’ll be right back.” Reaching out to ruffle their hair just a bit, I stand up straight once more and continue on my way into the house.

 

Sans’s head jerks up warily when I walk in, though he relaxes the instant he lays eyes on me. His exhaustion shows clearly through his endearing half-smile, slumping slightly in his chair at the table. Slipping into the chair at his side, I return his grin, slouching to mirror him a bit.

 

“sorry about that, sweetheart… that got a little out of hand.” He says with a halfhearted exhibit of his hand, which I immediately take and pull into my lap.

 

"No, it's okay." I murmur gently, watching as Sans relaxes more fully while I ruminate over his bone structure locked in mine, flesh the only dividing line.

 

“…did he hurt you?” The question comes lowly after a moment of calm quiet between us. In answer, I roll my shoulders forward, slumping forward a bit more. He waits, the silence stifling until I open my mouth.

 

“Not bad. I’m alright… might need your help with it a little later.” Sans manages to keep himself perfectly still, though just out of sight, I’m certain his eyes have bottomed out into complete blackness. “Sans, really…” I thread our fingers together, pressing his hand back towards him and looking up at him. The dimmest of white pinpricks rove over my frame, settling over where my SOUL rests within my chest. Without letting go, he reaches into the knapsack he returned with, tugging out a bag of potato, wait—popato? chips. Huh.

 

“it’s monster food i managed to dig up in the back of the old grillby’s, so it should do more for you than just human food.” Sans explains when I begin to examine the brightly colored wrapper.

 

“Frisk needs some food too.” I hedge carefully since he seems relatively level-headed at the moment. He sucks in a deep breath, completely expelling all the air from his body before nodding an affirmative. “They want to take Flowey to the Surface…” Dropping that little bit hesitantly earns me an uncomfortable growl out of him, which I instantly react to. “I don’t agree with it either after seeing what he tries to pull on strangers, but Frisk is kind of right… Why is he even still down here? Only Asgore was sentenced to go back.” My questioning appears to register as somewhat worrying to him, his expression shifting from a stoic “fuck that” to something hinging closely on desperate.

 

“look, ah…” Sans brushes his free hand over his skull to wipe a small bead of cerulean sweat away, glancing to one side for a moment before shifting his eyes back to me. “i should apologize to frisk…” I can’t maintain a poker face, my frustration with all the back-and-forth secrecy seeping through, plain for him to see. Taking notice, he heaves a heavy sigh. “sweetheart, it’s just… it’s a lot.”

 

“No, I know… I guess you wouldn't be struggling with it if it wasn’t a lot.” I try my best to be sympathetic through my exasperation, finding some small success. It takes every amount of restraint I possess not to blurt out every question I have buzzing between my ears. Sans inhales deeply once again, edging his hand out of mine.

 

“when the kid and the flower are asleep, we’ll talk. cross my SOUL.” I’m surprised, to be sure. “can you hold off until then with the help you need from me?” It takes me a moment of thought to recall what I’d mentioned I needed help with, but I give an affirmative nod while my shoulder produces a dissatisfied throb.

 

“Want me to go get Frisk for you?”

 

“if you don’t mind watching the thorn in my side.” Cracking a little smile for him, I stand once more and start to head back outside. In mid-turn, bony phalanges snag one side of my unzipped rainjacket, tugging me gingerly to a stop. So, I do. And then, down. Scrunching up my brows, I allow myself to be pulled, perplexed up until I meet Sans’s eyes. Before I can question him, his teeth press against my lips with an almost painful intensity, bright blue searing my eyes shut as I’m clutched closer. My free hand finds his hoodie as my SOUL hurtles into my throat, stifling my speech when he drifts back just enough to separate us. “go on and get ‘em.” Another peck zings my cheek to get me moving when he releases me.

 

“Y-you’re terrible.” I stutter back at his little smirk, nearly stepping on my own feet as I traipse for the door.

 

“missed you too.” As I turn to echo him, he tosses my long-forgotten bag of popato chips at me.

 

Barely salvaging them, I cast him a sheepish smile, “I really did miss you, Sans. Glad you’re back.”

 

“me too, sweetheart.”

 

I’m truly shocked I don’t float outside based on the buoyancy my SOUL’s developed. Leaned up against the wall of the home, Frisk sits with Flowey in their lap, though they begin to stand and bring Flowey up with them when they see me.

 

“Just you, kiddo. Sans wants to talk to you.” They waver in place, looking down at the flowerpot. “I’ll watch him. Don’t worry.” I try for a reassuring smile, maybe half-reaching one. Frisk looks from me to Flowey before settling Flowey back on the ground.

 

 _“Be good.”_ They instruct, beaming apprehensively before disappearing into the house. Leaving Flowey and me to ourselves once again.

 

Flowey scoffs at Frisk’s remark as I slide down the wall to the ground, crossing my legs and pulling the bag of popato chips open. The bag heaves a soft, exhausted _boom_ , a dusting of magical confetti bursting forth and almost instantly disappearing rather lamely, as though the energy had faded overtime within the bag.

 

“Huh.” Flowey wrinkles a spot on his face where I’m sure his nose is located, watching as he seems to always do. Undeterred, I inspect the contents of the bag, pleased to find what appear to be regular chips inside. Perhaps kettle-cooked in appearance. Either way, I plop one of the crisps into my mouth, saliva instantly flooding in at the salty taste. One after the other, the whole bag is gone within moments, and I’m not sure if it’s the fact that this is monster food or if I’d just been without food for what felt like forever, but I’ve never felt so full in my life.

 

“You and Frisk have a good chat?” Thoroughly soothed, I lean back against the house carefully, looking up at the rock ceiling high above us.

 

“I guess.” Flowey huffs beside me, tipping his head up to see what I’m observing. Uninterested, he retorts in a tone mocking my own, “You and smiley trashbag have a good chat?”

 

“We did.” A blush floods my cheeks in spite of the flippant roll of my eyes.

 

“Ew.” He gags off to one side of his flowerpot, retching like he’s actually sick with the thought. Like a little boy afraid of catching cooties.

 

“Why do you act like that?” I can’t help my bemused expression, which he snorts at.

 

“Because you’re both disgusting trash. But I suppose that means you deserve each other.” Turning his proverbial nose up at me, he looks to the ceiling, though he’d initially found it disinteresting.

 

"What?" I simulate a gossipy gasp, leaning towards him. “You mean to tell me you’ve never had a _crush?_ ” Flowey blanches at my suggestion, and I immediately know I’ve landed a hit somewhere in his psyche.

 

“Of course not, you idiot! I’m a _fucking flower_! You see any other monsters like me?! No, I don’t think so!” He shouts defensively.

 

“Okay, okay.” I lift my hands innocently, dropping the subject. A few quiet moments pass, and Flowey eventually casts his head downward, petals drooping a bit. Unsure of what to do, I don’t say anything until I think I can hear him snuffle. And at that point, I just have to ask, “What’s wrong, Flowey?”

 

”N-nothing!” Flowey snarls back through whatever wave of agony he’s dealing with. “I-I just…” He upturns his face again, staring blankly toward the archway leading into the next room. “I miss my best friend…” He admits bitterly, appearing to physically swallow his pride.

 

“Who’s your best friend, Flowey?” Keeping my tone gentle, I urge him to continue airing his emotions out. Maybe this is what’s got him so perpetually worked up. Flowey shakes his head fiercely, so I move onto the next question. “Well, where are they…? Are they on the Surface?” His gaze again brushes against the rocky roof at my suggestion, and my gut feeling indicates that his friend must be there. “We’re going to get you out and on the Surface. So maybe you’ll get to see them again soon.” Flowey turns to look at me then, so I give him a little smile to work with.

 

“Yeah… maybe.” He responds weakly, though I’m sure I can see the faintest hint of a grin slipping across his face.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> READER STOP WITH THE QUESTIONS THEY'RE SUPER DANGEROUS. Reader will probably not stop though. Reader will probably be asking me why I'm doing this to her here soon... D:  
> I'll be heading off to round 2 of training tomorrow, but this one has a test at the end on Friday. I'm going to be doing my damnedest again to keep powering through, and next chapter is proving to be um... eventful. At least in my head. So I'm sure the excitement of wanting to get it all out to you guys will allow me to produce something at least once over the week, but probably not two chapters. I'll have to see how the studying goes... Bleh. It seems like a lot of common sense, but there are also several laws and such I need to memorize. Also bleh.  
> Hope you all have a wonderful rest of your weekend! I'm off to make some macaroni and watch TV like a lameass, FRICKIN STARVING.  
> Tumble with me on tumblr: onthewingsoficarus.tumblr.com


	34. Backbone

Our metaphorical night falls once more, and it’s a little easier to relegate Frisk (and Flowey) to an actual bedtime with another older-person-figure in the household to maintain order. I’m a bit hesitant about Flowey staying in the same room as Frisk, but Sans reassures me repeatedly that Frisk could easily and has easily handled themselves against Flowey. Which only serves to make me even nosier.

 

With a belly full of monster food, Frisk more readily accepts mumbled “good night”s, tucking the occupied flowerpot under their arm and carrying Flowey into the child’s bedroom I found them in previously. Even Flowey’s slumping into Frisk exhaustedly. Excusing Flowey’s typical attitude, the two of them look like peas in a pod together. I keep watch briefly as Frisk settles Flowey on their nightstand and snuggles up close to him. Satisfied, I pull the door closed with a soft _click_ and venture back down the long hallway and through the atrium to the living room. In my absence, Sans appears to have retrieved several blankets and pillows, creating a pallet on the floor in front of the fire.

 

“alright, sweetheart, you ready?” He asks as he comes out of the kitchen with the roll of bandages, a bowl, and plenty of gauze.

 

“As much as I can ever be, I guess.” Half a smile flits over my face as I move to settle in the pallet with my back to the fire. Once I’m seated, I tug off my rainjacket, depositing it to one side as Sans steps carefully over me to sit on the ledge of the fireplace just behind me. His hoodie comes off of me next, and I settle it in my lap to give my hands something to work with, anticipating fully that this won’t be a very pleasant experience. “I’m really sorry; Flowey managed to get a hole in it…”

 

“sew it seams.” Sans brushes his fingers against the hole in my t-shirt, which of course could have only been made if there were holes in both his hoodie and my rainjacket. “don’t spare it a thread of thought, sweetheart. i’ll take care of it.”

 

I snort quietly, shaking my head before glancing back over my shoulder at him and asking, “You can sew?”

 

“darned right, I do.” Sans passes me a hint of a grin as he pushes my shirt up my back to gain better access to my wounded shoulder, and I struggle with a shiver invoked by the cool of his bones skirting up my back for the briefest instant. “i made paps his scarf and helped him with a lot of his outfit otherwise. patching all this twill be easy.”

 

“Don’t get khaki.” Rolling my eyes, I face forward again, earning myself a chuckle out of him.

 

“what, sweetheart? don’t i have you in stitches?” Sans brings a hot, damp cloth over the pellet, applying a light amount of pressure around the wound.

 

“No, but I’m sure you will in a minute…” I can feel my body tensing despite myself, shutting my eyes and breathing in deeply through my nose.

 

“it’ll be a little longer than that.” he murmurs, readjusting the rag against my skin. “since we have some time, i’ll go ahead and answer some of your questions…” The offer gently pushes my mind away from the impending pain as I begin to ruminate. Where to begin, would be a good first question.

 

“Flowey mentioned…” I begin with some hesitation, playing with the sleeve of his hoodie, “that I have no idea what Frisk has done… five years ago, or whatever. It was something along those lines… And then just based on the way you’ve reacted to them, I just… I think I’m missing something.” It’s not quite a question as a result of my word-fumbling, but it comes out all the same. Sans removes the rag and re-wets it, allowing me to look back at him once more. Brow furrowed in thought or frustration, he rings the cloth back out a little harder than necessary, mental sores surfacing all over his expression.

 

“it’s… very strange… so i want to warn you before i dig into this. i’ve tried telling other people before and nobody believes me, so… cut me a little slack for not telling you sooner, okay?” A cynical little grin crosses his face, worry visibly washing over him.

 

“I saw the same thing you did in that camera though, before all this started. It may be weird, but with what I’ve seen so far, I can’t doubt you.” I lean back against his shins, tipping my head back into his lap to smile at him. The action appears to bring him back around, and he leans over to press his teeth to my lips—fuckthequestionsjustkissmelikethisforever—

 

“now where were we?” Pulling away slightly, I’m almost certain I can see him smirk before he sits up fully to the point where his face is out of sight. Taking a moment to regather his thoughts and reapply the cloth, we sit in silence briefly while I fester over the heat tingling in my face. “ah, right… be a teddy and bear with me, sweetheart.”

 

“Okay, that one didn’t really make much sense.” It tugs a little laugh out of me though.

 

At least until he follows me up with a retort that’s a little too overloaded with emotion to take anything but seriously, “my life doesn’t really either, to be honest.”

 

“Sans…” I murmur his name out of instinct, recognizing by his tone that this could be the root of the rotting kind of agony tearing at his SOUL.

 

“it didn’t even really start with frisk. that flower started it all, truthfully… alph made a lot of mistakes during her tenure as royal scientist, not that she shouldn’t be allowed to since science is all about repeated mistakes until one finds the solution. but her little ‘mistakes’ weighed on people’s lives… i know you read that she studied determination, specifically, or dt, and that was essentially her main field of study. you wouldn’t think that, based on the studies she’s published, but that’s what she focused on, mostly.” Which is a complete reversal of everything I’ve known about Alphys up to this point. The confusion certainly shows on my face.

 

“So what was all of that stuff on SOULs, then? Why did she bother working with me on my topic…?”

 

“she’s been trying to leave behind the dt experiments since even before leaving the underground. anyway, i think you might have read that one can get determination from human SOULs. all humans have some amount of it. like you’ve proven so far in your work, everyone has some amount of every trait, at least for humans. it’s that trait that allows the SOUL to exist separately from the human, even when they die. as for monsters, there are hardly any of us who have any amount of natural determination in our SOULs. alph meant well in all of this, truly…” Sans takes in a bottomless breath before continuing. “she extracted determination from the six children’s SOULs that were in the kingdom’s possession. then, she injected it into bodies of dying monsters with the thought that their SOULs would remain, even though their bodies would still turn into dust. and after that, she injected the stuff into a flower. the idea was to test what would happen if something neither human nor monster, something without a SOUL, gained a will to live, to provide a vessel for the monster SOULs she anticipated would become available.”

 

“And that became Flowey?” I rack my brain for everything I’ve ever learned about Determination, trying to understand how a mere flower could gain sentience with the introduction of a single trait.

 

“well, it wasn’t just any flower she chose, but one from a particular bed of them.”

 

“On which the king and queen’s son died after humans wounded him in his combined form with Ch—.” Sans cuts me off rather quickly, continuing on.

 

“right, which may have lent a bit of a hand in his... _birth_ or whatever you can call it. there’s speculation between myself and alph since we’ve all left that it may or may not be asriel. and frisk won’t say anything about it, leading me to think the kid’s consciousness may very well be in that flower. the problem remains though, that the flower has no SOUL of his own. and a SOUL guides your personality just as much as your frontal lobe, you know, so…”

 

“He just has the more primal functions.” Monster anatomy isn’t all that different from our own, though it varies by species. Regardless, all monsters have a brain composed of lobes akin to that of a human brain. “If it is Asriel, then that would make sense… he’s never been able to develop into the egalitarian way of thought. So he’s just a perpetual child.” Ignoring the “holy shit what the fuck” feeling proves a little difficult, but I force myself through it to absorb as much information as I can. Up to this point, Sans has never been so forthcoming. I may never get a chance to talk to him like this again. That thought comes with a slightly more morbid air than usual.

 

“and a cruel one at that…” He remarks quietly as he removes the cloth once more before instructing. “on three, sweetheart. one, two—.” On two, Sans tugs the pellet directly out of my shoulder, the suddenness only allowing me to gasp quietly at the surge in pain. “sorry, there…” He murmurs, reapplying the rag over the wound. Who knows how bad it looks.

 

“anyway, determination is an odd trait. it’s the only one i know to be this way, but… in the underground, the entity with the highest amount of determination within them has the ability to de-terminate. or LOAD, as it’s also called.” I can feel my bottom jaw drop open, a wry smile quirks up Sans’s mouth at my shock. “i know, just stay with me here…” He sighs, like he’s certain this is the point in which I’ll discount every word to leave his mouth. “when one SAVEs and LOADs, it fucks with the timeline. decays it, even.”

 

“What do you mean by the timeline…?” The words come slowly; all I want to do is understand. Prove him wrong.

 

“the progression of time in a linear fashion… look, hold the cloth for a minute.” Sans asks of me, and I oblige, watching him. He scoots over to the bookshelf, tugging a small notebook free and sliding down beside me. I lean slightly against him as he flips to a blank page in the notebook and removes a pencil from between the cover and first page. “so say this is time…” He draws a straight line horizontally across the paper. “in our world, it typically functions in a linear fashion. one can go forward, but not backward. however, this doesn’t eliminate the existence of things that happened before our conception.” I nod my comprehension, staying with him so far. “people die all the time.” Pressing the lead back to the paper, he scribbles a small point directly on the line. “but say this is flowey. the most determined entity within the underground can occasionally SAVE their location, down to the time, position, what they were carrying, everything. so let’s say that flowey SAVEs here at this point.” Sans indicates the dot he just drew, then scrawls out another dot slightly further to the right of the first one. “and let’s say he dies here or screws up something. well, if he de-terminates, he can bring himself right back to this point in time. which eliminates everything that happened in this space.” He speaks as he points to the small part of the line between the two dots.

 

“That’s a LOAD?” I can feel the edges of my mind trying to wrap around all of this, and I scrunch my nose up at the paper as if that’ll help me understand.

 

“yeah…” Sans nods, then moves his hand back further to the left on the timeline, creating yet another dot there. “so this is where flowey first came into being… if he wanted, if he thought he got in too deep, he could completely RESET the timeline… which eliminates everything, all the SAVEs, everything he did, right to this point here.” Sans erases the first two points he drew, then recreates the straight line in their spaces and moves his pencil back to the latest addition.

 

“How…?” Admittedly, it does sound farfetched, but I’m no Stephen Hawking. It could have happened.

 

“the underground is a full of impossibilities, honestly. i theorized it could be possible as a result of all the magical energy that was housed down here, and trapped with absolutely no outlet for thousands of years… and that it just welled up in places that permitted a SAVE. but i’m not going to lie to you, i don’t have any fucking clue how, other than that it has to do with the level of determination within an entity.”

 

“Have you thought about publishing something on this?” I try to smile for him and bring a little light upon the situation.

 

“well, most people i’ve tried to tell just sort of think i’m crazy, and i’d rather not be locked up, so…”

 

Wincing slightly at his response, I bite my bottom lip and look up at him, releasing it to speak, “I don’t think you’re crazy… this is too strange not to be true…”

 

“we’re nowhere near done yet.” Continuing on with his plastered grin, he draws another point yet again to the right of the most recent one. “now, for a long time… years, maybe, that flower was uncontested and had his fill of SAVEs and LOADs and full RESETs. he’d fuck everything up just to entertain himself, and then bring everything back to zero.” There, I begin to see a slight flaw seeping through, and I immediately voice it.

 

“But wait, how do you know about the RESETs?”

 

Uncomfortable pain instantly flashes across his face, though it’s only present for a second, and he sits in silence for an eternal second before answering me, “remember how i told you my father wasn’t a great person?” I provide a hum of affirmation, prompting him gently to continue. “let’s just… i’m not normal. not for a monster. he, uh… made some adjustments, i guess. that allowed me to know…” My SOUL heaves a ragged throb in echo of the quiet paroxysm within his own SOUL, and the connection between us becomes visible with no further prompting. Sans glances down at the silvery thread, a dry chuckle slipping out as he lifts it tenderly in his free hand.

 

“I love you…” I swallow at the hard lump in my throat, every last shred of doubt purged just by the sense of sheer desolation within him. There is no fabricating this kind of devastation and the feelings associated with it. “I just want you to know that, s-sorry.” Forcing that rock down, I look back up at him rather sheepishly.

 

“i know…” His expression softens, and he looks as if he’d like to murmur those three words right back, but he’s in too deep to do so. Like if he stops now, he won’t continue back down this road. So he allows the thread to slip back into indiscernibility, clearly taking in a few galvanizing breaths.

 

“so… i would be aware that flowey was constantly fucking up the timeline, but if i said _anything_ , nobody would believe me… or if i did manage to convince someone, by the time flowey RESET again, i’d be back to square one. so i just… had to deal with the constant repetition of days i’d already lived through and experiences i’d already had. and every time i tried to whack that weed, he’d just RESET. so it was almost pointless… until he fucked up just one too many times and the timeline decayed to the point where events that were supposed to occur later happened much sooner. namely, frisk’s fall into the underground.” Sans taps on the paper to bring my attention back to it, and the point he’d draw further to the right of the point representing Flowey’s conception. “at this point, frisk became the most determined entity within the underground. as you know, they have a SOUL of essentially pure determination.”

 

“And Flowey lost his ability to de-terminate…” I follow his train of thought, and he nods to confirm that I’m on the right track.

 

“and frisk gained the ability instead.” He scrawls an X over Flowey’s dot. “frisk was ten years old when they fell down that hole. a child. not a terribly young one, but a child. and i’ll vouch any day that they were tired and scared a good bit of the time they were underground. it didn’t help that flowey had the advantage of being the first to immediately interact with frisk. every. single. time. he likely wanted that power back and thought that getting frisk killed would give it back. but frisk would just LOAD or RESET, and he’d continue to be without the ability. but, like i said, frisk was still a child… initially I don’t think they really knew what they were doing. give a kid god-like power and sure enough, they’re going to take it as far as they can go…” Sans settles the notebook down, leaning back to check on the wound, and replacing my hand over the cloth with his to give himself something to do with his hands. “the first time through, frisk killed toriel. i don’t think they realized that MERCY was an option, and they just… wanted to get to the barrier so they could go home.”

 

“O-oh my God…” I can’t help but breathe out my shock, completely rattled. But she’s still here, so… “I-I guess they RESET…?”

 

Sans supplies a nod. “they did. but here’s the thing… flowey’s actions had already decayed the timeline so much that by the time frisk came along, any alteration was going to have some effect… it opened up the timeline to anomalies. things that shouldn’t exist, bleeding in from the past. early on, there were runs where frisk would be just as sweet a kid as they are today. they’d make friends with all of us; they’d go on dates and flirt with everything in sight; they’d only use MERCY, never FIGHT. and they’d break the barrier, or so it’d seem, but we’d never see anything beyond the sunrise… and i’d wake up back in my bed in snowdin and wonder why they kept taunting us with our freedom.”

 

“Maybe they didn’t think anybody would remember.” I suggest lamely, a sickly feeling coiling in my stomach.

 

“that’s what i ended up thinking… and that they wanted to keep that power, because it appears to only work underground.” Finally, Sans removes the cloth, layering a patch of clean gauze back over the injury before winding bandages back over it. “anyway, the more they RESET, the more corrupted the timeline became. and that corruption eventually got into frisk as well. they’d go on runs of experimentally killing certain monsters, just to see what would happen. and i couldn’t stop them, because as judge, i wasn’t permitted to do _anything_ that would damage the last fallen human’s SOUL before asgore could use it on the barrier. maybe i should have just said ‘fuck it’ and killed frisk, but when things were good, they were great. when frisk was their normal self, they were the definition of kind and caring, and i couldn’t in my heart just off a normal kid. i couldn’t make myself kill without giving them a chance. because maybe that time would be the one they’d finally set us free…” He lets go of me, running his now-free hand over his skull. “in the end, i could tell it wasn’t just them. they weren’t alone in their own body; the anomaly made its home in frisk.”

 

“How many times did they RESET…?” I fully turn my body to face him, pulling my shirt back down.

 

“i lost count.” Sans admits with an agonized smile. “but they were definitely possessed at one point towards the end… and i’m not sure how they broke free, or how they’re not still possessed. they don’t want to talk about it, probably for good reason… we share a lot of shitty memories. but anyway, now you know.” He shrugs lightly, as if he’s just told me what the weather’s like outside. Not that time has the potential to be altered by a single being.

 

“Is that the same thing that’s possessing everyone now…?” The question comes tentatively. I’m afraid I’ll open up an even bigger can of worms. Or anomalies.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Teeny tiny cliffhanger lol. Wooo this chapter ended up being hella longer than I initially intended. Please let me if anything's confusing as hell. I made a shitty attempt to explain some of the game's mechanics via Sans so... lort knows what you'll think lol. I still don't know what I think, bleh.   
> It's lovely hearing from you all, so regardless what you think, hit up the comments if you have a feel you wish to express! I do have a little something for you all coming up next chapter... ;)  
> I have my test Friday afternoon, so wish me lots and lots of good luck please. I'll probably try to write a bit after studying so I can decompress, but I doubt it'll be a lot. But I'm hype af about next chapter. so get ready. :P It's been entertaining this week because a lot of my training material we've gone over in class has been typed in COMIC SANS OF ALL FONTS. i have to try not to die the whole time, it's so great. 
> 
> As always, you can come tumblah with me on tumblah: onthewingsoficarus.tumblr.com  
> Thank you all for reading!


	35. Guillotine

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "The secrets you tell me I'll take to my grave.   
> There's bones in my closet, but you hang stuff anyway.  
> And if you have nightmares, we'll dance on the bed.  
> I know that you love me, love me, even when I lose my head."  
> ["Guillotine (feat. Travis Mendes)" by Jon Bellion](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=aDKWgJGqPhc)
> 
> WARNING: SEXUAL CONTENT

“no. this is something else.”

 

“But what kind of something…?” An involuntary chill races up my spine, so I tuck myself closer to the fire, wishing it were hotter.

 

“the kind of something that’s not so kind.” I’ve garnered the maximum amount of information I’m bound to get from Sans for the day, clearly. The words come strained, though he still tries to work a little sarcasm into them even as he averts his eyes. Relaxed as we are now, on this hallowed ground he’s led us to, he’s still uneasy. A faint inkling stirs somewhere in the space between my ears; I’m certain he knows exactly what that “something” is. And I’m certain he has his reasons for hanging onto that information.

 

I just have to trust him.

 

“Okay.” I force the response to sound as neutral as possible in spite of the welling frustration. He’s the one who knows this place. Besides, curiosity killed the—.

 

“i just want to be sure. i made that mistake before and assumed frisk was wholly responsible. i don’t want to do that again.” Sans shifts uncomfortably, then stands up, navigating his way around me to pace around the living room. Playing with his hoodie in my lap again, I watch him, perfectly aware that a spurt in activity from him, of all people, is an indicator that things are likely worse than he’s letting on. But I have to remain calm, I tell myself as anxiety begins to catch hold of my neck.

 

“I get it, Sans. That’s alright.” Soothingly, I attempt to reassure him. It doesn’t work; he leaves the room for the kitchen in a hurry. Seconds later, the cupboard creaks open and the faucet rushes to life just out of sight. At a loss, in general, about everything, I heave a sigh as I tug a couple of blankets around my shoulders. Another series of shudders wracks my body, and I begin to wonder if it’s more than the chill in the air at this point.

 

Sans returns to the room, though he doesn’t come any further than the doorway, and I look up to meet his eyes. Shifting his weight between his feet, he glances over me to the darkened hallway beyond, then back down to me. I begin to speak to break the silence, but he’s faster.

 

“do you remember when you asked me to distract you?” A blue bead of sweat instantly forms at his temple, and I freeze with my mouth half-open, staring incredulously at him. How could I forget that? But he’s asking like he needs reassurance, that he didn't just imagine it.

 

“Yeah.” My cheeks instantly flush with heat, though I manage to maintain an unwavering tone.

 

“can you distract me this time?” Aqua lightly colors his cheekbones; I can see him kneading his hands in his hoodie pocket—how is he so impossibly cute. I nod nervously, wishing I could make myself articulate like a normal person that “yes, Sans, I would happily distract you in the manner we discussed previously”. But here we are because I’m incapable of keeping myself together. While I flounder amidst my own awkwardness, he hesitantly steps forward a few paces. “are you sure?” Oh god, now he’s perceiving my incompetence as hesitation.

 

“Y-yes!” Over-excitedly stutter, nice. “I-I mean, of course.” I force myself to take a deep breath, shutting my eyes as he closes the rest of the distance between us. “Sorry, I-I’m so fucking nervous.” I can’t help but splutter out a laugh, hearing him settle into the blanket pile with me. My teeth begin to chatter, so I clench my jaw firmly shut after apologizing. He’s going to run; I’m such a dumbass.

 

“don’t be sorry!” Sans blurts out almost as soon as I get the words out, and I blink open my eyes to look at him in a little shock. “we can—fuck, i’m nervous too.” He admits with a small chuckle as well, one I have to echo in my own little laugh.

 

"We could start where we were last time, I guess-s.” I clutch the blankets tighter around me, desperate to stop my stupid teeth clacking.

 

“you got it, sweetheart… why’s sex like math?” Sans takes a deep breath, closing his own eyes briefly to bring in a bit of resolve.

 

“I dunno, why?”

 

“add a bed, subtract the clothes, divide the legs, and pray you don’t multiply.” He grins at me rather sheepishly, immediately drawing a laugh from me.

 

“Sans! Shit!”

 

“gross.” Maybe it’s the nerves, but I can’t help giggling at him.

 

“I’ve got one.” The whites of his eyes brighten, and he smiles encouragingly. “Why is Off the happiest man in the world?”

 

“why?”

 

“Because he’s always getting blown and fucked!” I exclaim a little too enthusiastically, throwing my hands up for emphasis. Sans’s eyes widen and he bursts out in a belly-laugh, clutching his sides.

 

“okay, okay, i got another one… what do a penis and a rubik’s cube have in common?” I shake my head, inclining him to continue. “the more you play with them, the harder they get.”

 

“Sans, that was bad!” I reach over and shove his arm lightly.

 

“nah, but i can show you bad.” A devilish smirk alights on his face, baby blue blush smeared across his cheekbones shamelessly.

 

“You can try.” I shrug like I’m actually 100% confident, aloof even. And then he lifts his hand to the side of my face and my façade instantly melts away, breathy sigh leaving my parted lips.

 

“i might, if you’ll let me.” He drags the cool ivory of his thumb along my cheek, and I’m certain I’m going to combust.

 

“Please.” Clutching at the blankets around me for some sense of stability, I mumble out the only word of affirmation I can manage to put together in my head. Insides twisting in anticipation, I force myself to continue breathing, but allow my eyelids to slip closed.

 

It’s slow. My mind takes in little snapshots of each sensation, the unbearable nakedness before his teeth brush softly against my lips. The firmness contradicting the tender way he holds me, his other hand coming to fully cup my face as a burn develops gradually between us. I naturally lean into the kiss, though after a moment we part. I allow myself to look up at him again, finding he’s doing just the same.

 

The white pinpricks of his eyes aren’t quite “pinpricks” anymore, dilated almost saucer-like. My pupils have to be just as big, honestly, and I smile at the little thought. Lifting my hands carefully, I allow my grip on the blankets to drop, though they stay draped around my shoulders. Instead, I reach for his hoodie, grasping onto it to pull him closer. Obliging, he draws me in again, kissing me gradually harder, and then he takes my bottom lip between his teeth and tugs gently and oh holy fuck. I can’t help the moan that slips out, and he drags one hand back through my hair as if to soothe me. I grasp his shirt tighter, eventually finding both hands buried in the fabric.

 

“Sans.” Slurring his name quietly, I use my grip on him to force us apart briefly.

 

“i know.” Sighing breathily, he releases my face, instead taking ahold of the blankets around me. “c’mere.” He tugs on them playfully, smiling softly. Flushing hotly, I scooch forward rather bashfully, looking away in a bit of embarrassment. When I’m close enough, he leans forward, pressing his teeth into my neck and sending me squirming.

 

Fisting my hands harder in his hoodie, I draw myself into his lap. He releases the blankets to assist me, keeping his face buried in my neck as he settles my legs on either side of his body, pressing my core flush against him aside from all the pesky clothing still between us. I take up the guard, wrapping the covers around us and sealing in all the heat physically possible. I’m maintaining a fairly alright hold on myself, at least until what can’t be anything but his tongue lingers in that spot on my neck he’d been peppering with kisses. The warmth and the _wet_ sends me spiraling, shuddering against him.

 

“F-fuck.” I hiss softly against the side of his skull, nuzzling into him.

 

“you okay?” Sans murmurs gently, pressing kisses into my jawline halfway through the question like he can’t force himself to break away immediately.

 

“God, y-yes, don’t stop.” I experimentally allow one hand to slip further down, to his waistband, finding the iliac crest and tracing my thumb lightly over it. A chill instantly shirks up his spine, God-help-me, and his teeth graze over the side of my neck in response. I muffle my moan in his sweatshirt, struggling not to bite down on it. “We h-have to be quiet…” I sit up straighter, more instructing my silly self than him.

 

“that’s going to be hard.” Sans grins all kinds of coy, though when I readjust my position in his lap, I find that something definitely _is_ hard. Freezing, I almost feel like I’ve hit something wrong, and I look between us to make sure he’s alright. And then with the soft blue glow just beneath his shorts, it registers.

 

“You seriously punned about your penis?” Laughter bubbles forth both at him for being the way he is and at myself for being such an idiot.

 

“well, if you’ve got it…” He trails off with an almost shy smile, tension in his expression; I realize he might think I’m no longer interested.

 

“Flaunt it.” I finish for him, rolling my hips forward gently up against him and pressing my lips to his jaw.

 

“ah, yeah, that’s how it goes.” Sans growls quietly, taking a finger to my chin and lifting my mouth back to his. Cerulean sparks instantly fly before my eyes, and I squeeze them shut against the ferocity in the kiss as he grasps me closer. Like he can’t get me close enough. Clinging to him, one of my hands finds his vertebrae and I gingerly drag my hand up to the base of his skull. His hips jerk against me just slightly, creating the tiniest flash of friction against my clit.

 

“G-goddamnit.” I gasp against him, gripping on tighter.

 

“you alright?” Slowing down, he shifts again, nestling his head in the crook of my neck.

 

“Do that again.” It almost comes out pleadingly. He doesn’t move for about the length of a full breath, and I nearly do bring myself to my knees to beg. Instead, he drags his tongue up the length of my neck to my ear, gingerly biting my earlobe. Thoroughly distracted with fighting down every sound I’d like to make, I’m blissfully unaware of his hand finding its way down to my leggings. That is, until he presses his thumb _perfectly_ into my clit, tracing a tiny circle into my core. My breath completely hitches in my throat, three distinctive tremors lurching up the length of my back. “Fucking s-s-shit…” I gaze up at him blearily, wanting nothing more than him. That’s all. Please?

 

Silence settles over us, all aside from the crackling of the not-warm-enough fire beside us. He draws away just enough to examine my face, maybe looking for any doubts or reservations. But I don’t have any. And as fucked up as everything is now, we may not get another shot. The thought fires an aching throb straight through my SOUL, one I can feel across the space in his chest as well. Maybe even worse in the echo.

 

Right, the distraction.

 

I move first, drawing myself hurriedly up onto my knees and tugging my leggings down, having to move off his lap to do so effectively after a brief failed attempt while still on top of him. When I chance a glance at him, he’s clearly doing the same with his shorts. In the raw moment, I can feel muted apologizes from his SOUL, that he wants more time, to do this right, and I want nothing more than to reassure him that what we have is enough. More than enough. We can make it that way.

 

Lucky for Sans, I’m an expert fumbler, keeping my clothes around one ankle just in case. Not super-attractive, but I manage to keep a blanket around me so I don’t look like a total dipshit. Acutely aware of how wet I am since the room’s so cold, I’m quick to draw myself back into Sans’s lap for the warmth. Draping the blanket around my shoulders, I gather myself on my knees, his hands coming to grasp my hips. Slowly, agonizingly, I let him guide me down until he’s close, the heat nearly unbearable after just a moment.

 

“are you sure?” Giving me every opportunity to back down, like I could ever want to.

 

“For you, always.” Smiling softly, I cup his face in my hands, pressing my lips to his teeth. I’m like a pyromaniac striking a match when it comes to kissing him first; the magic ignites the heady need within me in less than a second. The head of his cock slips inside me, that first feeling of him filling me jarring my mind beyond all comprehension of anything else going on but him.

 

It’s perfect; I know automatically, this is right. This is as right as anything could possibly be. I breathe his name between us and he echoes me, raw passion clawing into the kiss and creating a SOUL-throbbing connection. I will myself to get closer, need to, sinking gradually down on him. Sans grounds himself in my hips, hard enough to mark, resisting moving until he’s hilted. And it’s there I provide the time we need, as close as we can possibly get, each breath like a tiny thrust within itself. My eyes find his, like we’re surprised at each other, and a smile quirks up his mouth. I mimic him; I can’t help it.

 

“I-I love you.” It sounds incredulous, but really I just can’t believe I’ve found him.

 

“i love you too, sweetheart.” He whispers back, pained.

 

Steadying myself with a breath, cooling the heat welling within me, I nearly start to draw myself up when he presses his hand to my back, laying me out beneath him. My expression twists as the shift in position allows him deeper purchase—oh holy fuck, quiet is impossible. Stifling a high-pitched whine into his mouth, I grip onto him for dear life as he starts to move. Sans finds a rhythm easily, each thrust smooth and measured, pulling away from my lips to nuzzle into my throat—.

 

An explosion of sound from the hallway renders time and the two of us to a complete and utter halt.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I tried so hard. ;_; it's been a long time since I've written any smut, so I apologize to all of you if it's terrible. Bleh.  
> Not sorry about that cliffhanger tho. :P  
> I hope you're all doing well! I'm actually off work this week on vacation, so I'm going to be doing a loooot of reading and writing if I can help it. <3 I'm hype. Initially I'd planned on going with a friend, but she bailed last minute... :( That means more time to write fanfiction though bahaha.   
> It's always awesome hearing from you guys! You can find me on tumblr too at onthewingsoficarus.tumblr.com   
> Thank you as always for reading! I'll try not to make y'all wait too long for the next one. :D


	36. Erasure

I’m not sure how long we’re stuck in place, heads tipped towards the hallway, breathing heavily into each other and waiting for some other sign of movement. There isn’t one, no matter how long we stare.

 

“W-what the fuck was that…?” Death-gripped onto Sans’s hoodie, I realize every bit of me is trembling, voice included.

 

Initially, Sans just answers by clutching me tighter to him, a guttural growl stirring between us. “don’t know.” He replies, clipped after a moment of silence. Whatever interrupted us has no actual interest in us, and appears to have moved on, which means—.

 

“Frisk.” Blurting their name, I scramble beneath Sans until he releases me, agonized breaths leaving each of us at our separation. “Frisk!” I call out hoarsely, bouncing fully into my underwear and hauling my leggings up as I run haphazardly down the hallway. The child’s bedroom door hangs wide open. Nobody’s there. Just an empty flowerpot on the floor. “Sans!” Nearly hinging on a scream, I tear back down the hallway, intending to find him in the living room. Instead, he’s rushing down the stairs in the foyer, tossing his spare sweatshirt my way.

 

“that flower there?” When I respond by fervently shaking my head, he scowls, storming ahead. “then i know exactly what we heard.” The staircase and conjoined hallway are a replica of the ones beneath the keep in New Home, all aside from the purple slate. The only difference lies in a heap of crumbled pieces, the remnants of an impressively massive stone door. Grey-white snow spills in through a fairly large hole, and I approach cautiously, examining the incredible width of rock blasted straight through.

 

“Flowey couldn’t have done this, could he?” I grimace at my own words; who else could have done this? Sans nods, very briefly evaluating the destruction before stepping through the hole and out into the snow.

 

“afraid so. our little buddy is capable of a lot more than he lets on. what he did to you was child’s play.” I’m quick to follow Sans, throwing his standby hoodie over my head. “stay close to me.” It’s not a request, and I don’t dare question it.

 

Even just a few feet away from the Ruins, the endless white expanse beckons, eerie images of false figures forming in the sweeping snow-filled gusts. I latch onto the edge of his sweatshirt, tugging the hood of mine up and pressing myself as close to him as possible in our movement.

 

“FRISK!” I try to call out, but the wind rips my voice to shreds within a second. Sans comes to a quick stop, standing up straight and peering around cautiously before pulling his own hood over his skull and continuing to move forward. “Did you see something?!” He gives no indication that he’s heard me, scanning the area in front of us for tracks, though none are visible in this shitstorm. And if none are visible that way… I glance back over my shoulder, discovering all but our last three steps have been completely wiped from the world. Finding our way back to the Ruins should be interesting when we find Frisk.

 

As if in response to my thought, the blizzard churns faster around us, the wind whipping tiny lances of ice like shards of glass through the air. Our footprints completely disappear. The only thing I can see of Sans, though he’s right next to me, is his clothing. Teeth chattering against the gusts of sheer ice, I hang onto him as tightly as possible. Though at some point, I can’t really feel how hard my grasp is. My mind begins to freeze up along with my joints. I’ve never liked feeling cold. I hate it. I can’t stand it. Why—where is Frisk? Vision blurred by frozen eyelashes, something dark flits through the snow off to my right. My legs lock up.

 

What the fuck was that?

 

“Sans, did you see…?” My voice trails off into nothingness.

 

He’s not there.

 

“Sans?!” I sound overly frantic, unable to stop myself from whirling around all wide-eyed. Surely he’s close-by. I debate over standing still so he can find me again, but I’m spurred into motion by another blur of dark _something_ at the edge of what may be the tree line. Stumbling forward, I fold my arms over my chest, calling louder, “SANS!”

 

My name.

 

Spinning on my heel toward his voice, I’m sure it’s him, I echo his name back. “Sans?! I’m right here, Sans!”

 

Just the vast stretch of white. No footprints anywhere. Like he just vanished.

 

Like I could too.

 

Fear ices through my veins, and I think I feel something sharp and cold rake down my spine. And maybe it’s just a chill or maybe it’s that fucking creature. But I know better than to look back in spite of the intense impulse to check, just once, just a little. So, I make myself run, stumbling through the snow, hot tears of absolute terror icing over immediately on my cheeks.

 

“SANS!” I cry again, desperately, breath lacing the air in front of my eyes with a brittle frozen mist. “FRISK!”

 

And then it falls to, “SOMEBODY!”

 

“Anybody?”

 

Thinking I could conserve heat better, I crouch low to the ground, hugging my knees to my chest and wiping at my face in an attempt to see more clearly. I bow my head behind my knees, leveling my eyes just over them and peering out on all that white. Shuddering into the snow, I wonder how long it’ll take for me to stop shivering. Have I officially caught hypothermia yet? Probably not long now if I haven’t already. So, I try to imagine some place warm, where we could go after all of this is said and done. I can conjure a balmy beach for all of a moment before it fades—

 

No.

 

I didn’t mean it. I didn’t truly mean _anybody_. Backpedaling on all fours, I mentally plead for a place to hide. For Sans, safety. Help. Agonizing, it makes its approach slow and circular, as if it enjoys watching me squirm.

 

“SANS!” I’m sure I can hear broken laughter from the wavering figure as it comes closer. I clutch at my chest, dead-set on keeping my SOUL within me if it comes to that. It doesn’t seem to want to bother. A particularly thick tendril of darkness materializes out of nothing, sweeping my legs out from under me, though I manage to hit the ground and roll out of the way of the next, albeit a little on the slow side. I’m not allowed any time to find my feet again, buffeted into the snow by the next. Scrambling desperately, I struggle to pry myself free and manage it.

 

The next blow connects with my left temple and my knees crumble unwillingly beneath me, leaving me gasping for air, though I’m only able to get to snow. His name dwindles on my lips and dies, blackness rimming my vision and drifting inward. All-consuming.

 

I am no exception.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tbh I don't like how this chapter turned out. Might go back and make some edits to it after I've slept on it. Slackin' on vacation, obviously. Sigh... Part of it was that I was inspired to create a relatively short fic that has nothing to do with this, and I've been working out those details this week. I want to finish that whole thing before posting any of it, but HH will be my main priority as always. The other fic is significantly lighter though and this shit is about to get dark. And by dark, I mean this is your final warning to back out now if you don't like dark... 
> 
> I watched The Babadook tonight and that helped me get through this chapter a bit. Do any of y'all have a favorite scary movie or creepy music you wouldn't mind sharing? I'd love to hear in the comments.  
> That said, I hope to get another chapter finished by the end of this trip, but I have a feeling the next chapter is going to be very tough to write. But we'll see.   
> Tumble with me on tumblr if you feel like it: onthewingsoficarus.tumblr.com   
> Hope you're all having a wonderful week and a happy Friday! Thank you all as always for reading!


	37. Buried Alive

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Y'all, go check out [Otherworld by RockyRose](http://archiveofourown.org/works/5968174/chapters/13715659) It's a wonderfully written Sans/Frisk fic, complete with creepy inner demon and unique setting! Her puns put everything I've ever known to shame. 
> 
> Welcome to hell, check your bags at the door.   
> It's all downhill from here.   
> Go ahead and assume violence from here on out.

“you’re out of your fucking mind.” Sans’s voice seeps through the dense fog cobwebbing my brain, calm though his words are inflammatory. A higher-pitched warbling answers him unintelligibly as white-hot lights begin to pop to life behind my eyelids. It’s probably just a bad dream; maybe it’ll go away if I go back to sleep.

 

It doesn’t.

 

This bed is too cold, too firm.

 

“no, seriously. your brain’s turned to goop, not just your body—“ He trails off in a hiss, a reverberation of distant pain sheering through my SOUL and forcing my eyes open. Blinking hard, my sight gradually begins to adjust to the spotlight firmly planted above my head.

 

This is all wrong.

 

Alphys’s body thumps heavily to the floor about ten feet from me, shuddering and twitching in the creature’s absence. The creature twists itself into a workable shape, leaving her behind like a broken toy. Her breathing settles into a wet rhythm after a moment. There’s a brief and bitter relief in that much.

 

“Sans…?” My voice is gravelly, speaking like chipping through permafrost.

 

 ** _“I do apologize. We’ll be able to speak more freely momentarily, dear-heart.”_** A pounding headache throttles through my head, bringing all thought to a grinding halt. It’s same voice I’d heard through Alphys’s mouth, ringing true and unadulterated by another. Bile rises in my throat unbidden, and I attempt to turn my head away from the unbearable noise.

 

“sweetheart, listen to me, it’s going to be alright, everything’s going to be fine.” The creature seems to have shifted its attention, Sans leaking back through the distortion as it fades. I attempt to move toward the sound of his voice, dizzily trying to reorient myself. I’m seated in some kind of glass chamber, though I can clearly hear everything happening just beyond the glass. Pristine metal sheeting covers the entirety of the room, three bare operating tables lined up straight across the room. One is occupied.

 

“Sans?” Finally, it clicks, and I nearly smash myself headlong against the barrier between us. “SANS?!” His clothing is bloodied and torn, t-shirt hanging off of him in tattered pieces. His face is angled towards me, a sprawling crack clearly visible down the left side of his skull, but gradually pulling itself back together.

 

“i’m fine, sweetheart. it’s fine. just don’t listen to him. don’t give this fucker anything; he feeds on fear.” The formless creature, black as an oil spill come to life, sloshes around Sans, appearing to set up some kind of medical equipment. Sans seems to test the metal fixtures holding his limbs, unable to pry them free.

 

Swallowing anxiously, I attempt to rein in my horror, looking around frantically for some sign of Frisk or Flowey, anybody who could help. But it’s just the three of us. Pounding my fist against the glass proves fruitless, so my next option is kicking it. And then throwing my entire body weight into it, shoulder coming away even more black and blue. The faceless thing leans into Sans, trilling more nonsense to my ears, but whatever he says clearly has an effect. Sans screws his eyesockets shut, turning his face toward the ceiling as the slightest hint of aqua blue forms at the edges of both sockets.

 

That scares me more than anything else has so far.

 

Pressing my forehead against the glass, I squeeze my eyes shut and try to will him to feel me; it’s going to be alright, just like he said. The overhead lights cut out, sealing us in darkness only interrupted by the yellow and red flickers of a nearby control panel. 

 

“don’t watch, sweetheart.” Sans speaks coolly, forced apathy flitting just beneath his façade. But, I want to. I want to support him, be strong—. His opalescent-white SOUL spills forth from his exposed ribcage, inverted to indicate we’re still Underground. A soft, inadvertent pulse of aqua magic washes over his SOUL, highlighting every single fissure within it, and then the faint thread of attachment between the two of us. The entity reforms into something shaped like a person, but it clearly has difficulty maintaining the form as it hangs over Sans’s SOUL.

 

“sweetheart, please.” He’s pleading now, reopening his fading white irises. “don’t watch.” Gnawing on my lower lip, I obey, tearing my eyes away and up to the ceiling of my prison. Either way, it doesn’t help abate the surge of pain that shreds through me, and at the same time, is faint and across the room. I’m leveled to my knees, pressing my head against the glass. Until I hear something above me, twisting around frantically to intercept whatever’s in here with me.

 

Several vines drop from the ventilation grate at the top of the containment system, Flowey’s sinister grin glinting in the dark.

 

“What’d you do with Frisk?!” The oddly distant tortured sensation subsides for an instant, and I can’t imagine what Sans is enduring within himself. “TELL ME!” I demand, balling my hands into fists.

 

“Not a thing!” Flowey’s expression shifts into false innocence, pressing a leaf over his face. “See, I just _really_ wanted to see my best friend’s memorial. Frisk made it for them all the way in Snowdin, and all it took was a little convincing to get them to dawdle on out of that room and turn their back just once…” He sniggers viciously, showing his razor-sharp teeth. “I can be a talented ventriloquist when the situation calls for it. All I need to do is get a few of these in the spine, and well… hang on for the ride.” Flowey flexes a particularly smaller set of vines, and I can imagine him wrapping himself right around Frisk’s throat. “It’s times like these I’m glad I kept a few cards close to the chest.”

 

“They vouched for you, and this is how you repay them?!” He just stares at me disdainfully, waiting until another wave of pain crashes into me, a smirk tearing his face open while I struggle to keep eye-contact.   


“Golly, you got an explanation and you _still_ know nothing.” He seems to debate moving closer to me, so I shove myself back away from him. “What an idiot.” Flowey drawls easily, smiling lazily. “I won’t hurt you. Not yet, anyway.”

 

“Where’s _Frisk_?” I snap back, gritting my teeth through the shared agony.

 

“You’re always so full of questions, you know? It’s pretty surprising, considering how fucking _stupid_ you are.” My refusal to answer and critical glare until he coughs up the information eventually weasels it out of him. “They’re around here somewhere. Don’t worry about them either, we _need_ them for what we intend to do.”

 

“And what is that?” Now that I have him talking, I hope to keep him doing so.

 

“Oh, I think I’ll let the boss explain.” Flowey draws himself back up into the ventilation shaft, leaving me exposed to the world beyond the glass. I’m drawn back toward the light of Sans’s SOUL, further fissures appearing on its surface, though it holds together. His head lolls weakly to one side, clenched fists falling open.

 

“SANS?!” I can’t help myself, pounding against the barrier with my knees now, though that only lasts for a few blows as the twin pain fades into a subtle throb. Furious, only incensed, I wheel on the creature in spite of everything it’s done so far. Fuck it. “What did you _do_ to him?!”

 

It turns to face me as if it may say something, and I brace myself for the mental barrage. At the last second, it seems to think better of the attempt, prying its attention away from me to fixate on the equipment he’s utilized on Sans. I piece together what he’s done as he moves an extremely large needle accompanying a mechanically mounted syringe away from the SOUL. A neon lavender substance sloshes in the syringe as the creature adjusts the angle of it towards itself—it must have taken the substance from Sans, which confuses me immediately. Sans projected aqua blue—patience.

 

Not perseverance.

 

It couldn’t have injected Sans with the liquefied trait; there’s too much of it in the syringe. The creature’s intent becomes clear a second later as it presses the needle directly into its center, loosing an unnatural screech and depressing the liquid into its body.

 

The shadowy form of the entity is haloed in a wreath of the very same highlighter purple, glowing ever-brighter as the thing begins to change. Transfixed, I watch until the light becomes too much, covering my eyes at that point with both hands. Even then, the radiance seeps heedlessly through the cracks in my fingers for what feels like an eternity.

 

And then, it’s gone. Cautiously, I peel my hands away from my eyes, blinking once more into the again-illuminated spotlight above me and around the room.

 

In the creature’s place stands a man, my brain making the connection in spite of the fuzziness. The royal scientist just before Alphys. Towering at least seven feet tall, he kneads his stark white hands together as if examining them for the first time, huge perfect-circle stigmatas present scored straight through each one. In contrast to the darkness he’s clothed in, his face is the very same snow-white as his hands, almost as if he’s wearing a mask and gloves. The mask is damaged, however, one crack arching up from his right eye and another down from his left. Something about him is still malleable, a too-wide dagger-sharp smile materializing on his face. It’s not until two faint pinpricks of light form in his bottomless eyesockets that I recognize the resemblance and properly place him.

 

Father to Sans and Papyrus. Former royal scientist. The name I’d read in Toriel’s journal finally unscrambles.

 

Dr. Gaster.

 

Fuckhead. I’m enraged; I want this fucker dead. I’ll kill him myself if I have to, for what he did to Sans’s SOUL in the past, for what he just did, for what he could have done to Papyrus’s SOUL, Alphys on the floor there just a little ways from him, Asgore—who knows where he is—Dr. Abernathy still comatose in a hospital on the Surface, slowly wasting away to nothing.

 

Frisk and Sans’s lectures on human strength versus monsters come to mind. If I can just get my hands on him.

 

“Ah, forgive me.” He speaks without moving his mouth, staring unmovingly down at me. “Finding oneself again requires the utmost concentration.” His expression doesn't change; I’m immediately unnerved. “My name is Dr. Gaster. Predecessor to dear Dr. Alphys. I know you’ve learned quite a bit from her, surprisingly. She’s always been rather hopeless.” Inclining his head towards her discarded, unconscious body, he shuts his eyesockets as if pleased with himself. “And you’ve clearly become unnaturally familiar with one of my sons. If you can call him that.” An undercurrent of derision infects his inflection, his voice an already-odd mixture of high and low tones.

 

“Why wouldn’t you call him that?” I manage to control my own tone, though something about what I’ve said makes him laugh.

 

“The aptly named flower warned me about your tendency to control the conversation, dear-heart, but I’ll answer your query.” Grinning like a Cheshire cat, he opens his eyes once more, unblinking in his gaze on me. I struggle not to fidget, keeping level with him. “He and Papyrus are not natural-born children, but creations of mine. Meant to be assistants, the both of them, but neither were all that useful. So they became experiments.” Dr. Gaster shrugs in a lackadaisical way that echoes Sans, but everything’s wrong in his words.

 

“What the fuck’s wrong with you?” The question comes out innocently before I can quite stop myself, wide-eyed in disgust, though I realize I’ve likely made a catastrophic mistake.

 

He clucks his tongue at me, shaking his head, “It seems he’s gotten into your head as well as your SOUL. Pity, I’ll have to work to rearrange that line of thinking.”

 

Stretching languidly, Dr. Gaster seems to be gathering strength still from his newly acquired perseverance, conjuring up clothing for himself out of thin air, an off-white turtleneck and black workpants beneath a still-black lab coat. When I tilt my head at his color selection, he merely chuckles, spiffing his cuffs and stating plainly, “Not as easily stained.”

 

Fucking creep.

 

“Now you’re a smart girl, it seems. In spite of some of your poor decisions, as of late.” He strolls over to Alphys, nudging her with his foot. I chance a glance back at Sans while Dr. Gaster’s distracted; his hand twitches like he might be coming back around. Just a little more time. “Why don’t you tell me what just happened?”

 

“I, uh…” That’s unexpected. I’m sure to make eye-contact again, telling him what I’d assumed. “You removed perseverance from Sans, I think.”

 

“Ineloquent, but correct.” Why is he even conversing with me like this? “And why would I do this?”

 

“Your primary trait likely is perseverance… and I suppose, as a probably-strong monster, adding more of that trait back to yourself helped stabilize your form.” I attempt to stay clinical as he circles, suddenly seeming rather predatory.

 

“Oh, you will be entertaining. Correct again, ____. Sans has been holding onto that for me for quite some time now.” Satisfied, he motions off to his left, a hint of the trait glistening in the whites of his eyes. I recognize Flowey’s vines snaking into the room, seizing Alphys by her ankles and dragging her out of sight, leaving a thin trail of dark blood behind. We’re alone once more after the automatic door swishes closed.

 

“How do you know my name…?” I know I didn’t introduce myself. “Where is he taking her?” Finding my fierceness again, I question more critically, folding my arms protectively over my chest.

 

“Away, for the time being. If you fear for her safety, rest assured she’ll be just fine.” Not after what he did to her mouth. He chuckles, as if he can sense my thoughts. “I’ve been aware of you for a while, ____. See, when one has been trapped in the void for as long as I have, you begin to see things… Paths individuals may traverse, intersections of these routes with another’s. You have been on a collision course with me for years now. Much like your father was with that—“

 

“Shut up!” He’s struck a nerve, and he knows it, continuing to speak.

 

“—automobile. It is rather helpful when one can see as far as I have; all it takes is one little slip, a human dies, and another spirals into an interest in the obscure, the divine, even.” Dr. Gaster gestures to himself like he’s the grand master behind everything that’s ever happened, coming closer. Holding his gaze, I manage to catch a glimpse of Sans’s open eyes through my peripheral vision.

 

“That’s not possible.” I state bluntly, because it’s not. No mortal entity has that much power. “I don’t have an interest in the obscure, and certainly not the divine.” The terms come out sarcastically, irritated with his expectations.

 

“On the contrary, my dear-heart. You have plenty of each; you chose to study monsters, of all things you could possibly study.” The pet-name is getting aggravating, but Sans holds up an index phalange, indicating for me to provide him with another moment. “You may have fallen off the track briefly in your dealings with Sans, but I assure you, the correction can easily be made.”

 

“We don’t _need_ correcting.” Snarling back, I’m a ball of fury up until the same door Flowey left through whooshes open once more, my attention redirected. Frisk stumbles through the doorway with Flowey wrapped thickly around their neck, empty-eyed and expressionless. “I told you to leave them alone, you overgrown weed!” Flowey forces Frisk to wink and continue to toddle forward to one of the open operating tables. “What the fuck are you going to do to them?!” My voice rises in pitch, though the attention remains on me. Sans appears to be pulling _something_ into the room with us, and whatever it is, it’s massive.

 

“Well, I’m not the only one who needs a new body.” Sans goes wide-eyed, and I’m certain my expression mirrors his. The anomaly.

 

“No! You can’t do that!” I slam myself against the glass once again, to no avail.

 

“I’m afraid it’s a necessity, dear-heart.” Frisk lays themselves up on the metal table closest to me, staring blankly up at the ceiling. Dr. Gaster produces a golden locket from the depths of his lab coat, a goopy blackness not unlike his own slopping off of it and onto the floor. Another full syringe, this time brimming with crimson DT follows the locket by way of a disembodied hand.

 

“Fuck you! They’re just a kid!” As his attention shifts onto Frisk, I glance wildly to Sans. He still needs more time, his expression shifting in terror. If whatever’s trapped in that locket gets out—. “THEY’RE A FUCKING CHILD!” I kick at the glass in desperation, frantic but unheard for the most part. Flowey still looks up from Frisk’s limp body to grin maliciously. In a last ditch effort, I spit out the only words I think could make this stop, at least for now. “Take me instead!”

 

It works. Dr. Gaster turns his head very slightly to look over his shoulder at me, as if waiting to hear me speak again. So, I do.

 

“Please, don’t! They’ve been through enough already, just—just take me! Whatever the fuck you’re planning… just not them.”

 

A wicked smile carves Dr. Gaster’s lips upward as he angles himself to fully face me. “Excellent. I was hoping I would get your permission.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I feel like I perpetually promise awfulness lol. The beatings will continue because morale is likely to hit rock bottom.   
> I hope y'all have a wonderful Independence Day (to my USA readers, but either way, I hope everyone has an awesome Monday)! Hit me up in the comments or on my [tumblah](http://onthewingsoficarus.tumblr.com) and let me know what you think! :D  
> As always, thank you for reading! I hope to get a bunch of the next chapter done tomorrow, but we'll see what happens...


	38. Blood, Sugar

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, first of all, I am SO SORRY this took so ridiculously long for me to get out here. I'll reserve my bitching and reasons for why that happened for the end note though. Thank you all so much for your continued support and kind comments! They seriously mean the world to me... More on that later, I know y'all want to know what's going down! 
> 
> WARNING: GRAPHIC DEPICTIONS OF VIOLENCE, GORE

“Flowey, do us a favor and give us some privacy, hm?” Dr. Gaster practically glides forward to stand in front of me, the suddenly-much-too-thin glass the only thing separating us. Flowey frowns, pulling Frisk off the table and back onto their feet. From this distance, the tiny spikes lacing his vines are clearly visible, leaving small bloody puncture wounds alongside the petechial hemorrhaging on Frisk’s neck. I level my expression back to a firm glare, tossing my eyes back to Dr. Gaster, daring him to proceed. Betting he won’t do shit.

 

“Your main traits,” my SOUL slides out of my chest with a harsh tug, one that leaves me gasping, “are integrity and perseverance. Not determination. So I’m unsure this one will take to you.” The locket shimmers oddly in his grasp, as if resistant to the darker coloration pulsing off my indigo SOUL. There’s reassurance in the fact that the anomaly can’t seem to stand me. Good.

 

I imagine myself wild and feral, something to be feared.

 

“But we can always find out.” He drawls, tapping the tip of the needle to the glass. The liquefied determination sloshes softly within the syringe.

 

“You’re not scaring me.” Snarling under my breath, I clench my fists. I’m not an experiment. I will not be toyed with.

 

“Not yet, perhaps.” Disembodied hands appear from sheer nothingness within the chamber, grasping me tightly by both arms. Kicking at the flooring to pry myself away does nothing but incite them to lift me off the ground.

 

“Fuck you!” My injured shoulder protests instantly, forcing a break in my control over myself, rage seeping through. “Let me go!” I manage to brush the toe of one shoe against the ground, relieving only the slightest pressure as tears brim unbidden, betraying my weakness.

 

“Resistance is likely to increase the amount of pain you’ll experience.” Dr. Gaster reports casually, though he truly couldn’t care less if I put up a fight or not, clenching his hands behind his back as the incorporeal projections drag me through the seamless sliding glass panel in the cell. When I don’t cease my struggles, he simply smiles, allowing the hands to practically smear me onto the operating table next to Sans’s. Wind knocked right out of me, the fire in me falters for a moment, long enough for Dr. Gaster to stroll easily around the table, locking my limbs into the available metal restraints.

 

“D-don’t you fucking dare!” I renew my writhing as soon as I’ve regained my breath, intent on not making this easy on him. Regardless, the man looms closer with his syringe, an overeager bead of DT forming on the tip of the needle as he levels it with the vein in the crook of my left elbow.

 

"hey, dad. didn’t anyone tell you that what ghost up must come down?” Both the doctor and I look up, finding ourselves staring directly into what appears to be a huge ethereal canine skull hovering just over Sans, at his command. Ivory white and fleshless, it hangs in the air, maw stretched open to an endless black chasm beyond. With the knowledge that Sans would never, not in a million years harm me, a flutter of victory brushes against my ribcage. We have him, and I can’t help the prideful grin that forms on my face.

 

“Open defiance isn’t typically the route you take.” Dr. Gaster sounds too calm. Surely he knows he’s in danger—I let my gaze fall away from the weapon to Sans. Fear shrinks his pupils down to almost nothing; something’s wrong.

 

“Sans?” I murmur his name like it’ll help. Breathing heavily, he stares back, the man with all the words in the world brought to complete silence. Divine radiance builds within the eldritch terror’s mouth, wreathing Sans in a halo of white.

 

“I suppose it’s something of a testament to how long I’ve been away.” Dr. Gaster flexes a hand thoughtfully in front of his face. “So much to put right. This will just have to be the first.” The doctor snaps his fingers, raw purple light flooding from the maw of the beast in place of the ghostly white, and suddenly I understand. Panic floods my body, but no matter how much I writhe, I can’t break the metal restraints. Horrible fear washes stinging tears over my face through my desperation, and, tugging relentlessly, I rock my weight back and forth frantically in an effort to flip the table.

 

“leave her out of this, gaster.” Choked through clenched teeth, Sans hisses as our captor simply places a hand on my operating table to cease the rocking. “gaster, she doesn’t have anything to do with this!”

 

“On the contrary, you’ve delivered me the last piece of my puzzle.” Gaster muses over me, jagged teeth revealed in his smile. “It seems I’ll have to teach you once more, since you clearly haven’t learned yet, that there are always consequences for your actions.” The roar of the creature drowns Sans’s voice out as it steadily approaches, beckoned forward by the doctor.

 

There’s no way this is it. My mind slows, an attempt to draw out the last few minutes of my existence.

 

Staring down the barrel of the beast.

 

Gaster lays his hand on its side, like he’s comforting an old friend.

 

The monstrous glow threatens to swallow me whole.

 

Sans. The thin tendril of silver faith caught in his grasp. I think he’s screaming “don’t”. But I’ve never been good at reading lips. Or the lack thereof.

 

I truly don’t think there’s a better word to describe “firing” a weapon.

 

Every last nerve within my withering husk of a body is instantly set alight, vision dying immediately. The discharge of the weapon blows my eardrums to pieces. Coppery blood fills my mouth and coats my tongue long after I can’t taste it anymore, the scent of charred flesh seared into my brain. The last echoes of consciousness as I melt away from the pain tell me it’s important to know that smell. Remember this. Charcoal skin, saccharine cerebrospinal fluid, rancid meat, chalk bones—.

* * *

 

 

Dribbling gently back together in the nothingness, resistant, I rise. Reminiscences, little shards of the past flicker by, some stinging, others soothing. Otherwise, alone. The expanse is eternal. I’m quietly aware of my fading, grains of sand through my hands.

 

A sharp pull at my core, reeling in my attention. Ever-present, the thread glimmers of hope in the dark, humming almost-somethings against my chest, chances. A choice.

 

I take it into my hands, weighing it, my options. Cut ties or come back.

 

“sweetheart”, it says.

 

I tug back.

 

* * *

 

 

“Foolish boy…” Sneered insults pressed against sharp cries of pain, punctuated by wracking sobs. “It truly is a pity that I require your presence just a short while longer. You tried so hard to remove her from this pain, too. Only to bring her back into the lion’s den. I’m genuinely impressed with your propensity for failure.”

 

I’m so cold.

 

“I’ll be with you momentarily, dear-heart.” At the sinister tone, I begin to pry my eyes open, choking in a breath of smoke.

 

How am I even here in this moment?

 

Another agonized noise draws my attention to the table over, focusing my very blurred vision on Dr. Gaster, the syringe meant for me buried in Sans’s right eye. Reflexively gagging, I’m unable to tug my hand up over my mouth, coughing painfully instead as I attempt to hold the urge to vomit down. A red substance of sorts slides down Sans’s jawbone from his open mouth, but skeletons aren’t supposed to bleed…

 

“Truly, you’re a waste of determination.” Gaster sneers, wrenching the syringe free of Sans’s eye. More fluid bubbles at the rim of the right socket, eventually sliding down his cheekbones, dribbling onto the metal beneath him. “I would like to thank you, though, for bringing her back, and your participation in bringing in the Blaster. Perseverance is an odd trait… Rather like determination. But triggering the trait to work requires a single de-termination event.” Sans flinches then, like the words harm him significantly more than anything that’s happened to him physically. My mind staggers to catch up—is he talking about me?

 

I can barely lift my head, breath catching in my throat. Nascent skin within a charred husk, snake shedding skin, butterfly in a cocoon. Hyperventilating only brings in more of the stomach-turning, close-to-barbeque scent, bile definitely coming up this time. Acid in my throat, I can’t hold it, turning my head away from the men and vomiting off the side of the table. The doctor’s bitter laughter in the background seems to make it worse.

 

“…were running on borrowed perseverance. Specifically, mine.” Reeling, I nuzzle my face into my shoulder to try to get the residual bile off my face, finding Sans’s hoodie oddly still present on my body and jerking back. Did I LOAD?

 

Did I die?

 

“fuck you!” Sans splutters angrily, his voice a bit blurred in my disorientation.

 

“I wonder if you tossed and turned over that moral debate in your mind each time you called them forth. You clearly knew the creatures were _mine_ , though then again, you are as well…” Dr. Gaster drawls, overly pleasant.

 

“you named them after yourself. how could anyone forget you made them? oh yeah, that’s right… y-you fell into the void, so _no one_ remembers you or any of your _great accomplishments_.” Finally finding his words again, Sans snarls back through gritted teeth. Dim pride still swells in my chest at observing Gaster’s facial expression contort ever-so-slightly as he attempts to hold his anger beneath the surface.

 

Frighteningly, his lips twitch upward within a second.

 

“No one but you. The weight of that knowledge must be SOUL-crushing. That knowledge, and the knowledge of what I will do. I will take everything from you, and no one will believe you… perhaps aside from her.” He jerks his head at me. “But that remains to be seen.” Satisfied with Sans’s silence, Dr. Gaster turns his attention fully to me, stalking forward.

 

“Now, where was I…? Ah, yes… about perseverance. By bringing our… lovely specimen back to us, you’ve awakened that particular portion of her SOUL.” Once again, my SOUL is pried free of my chest, though this time the sensation is particularly painful and I nearly wretch again at the agony. It looks so fragile hanging in the empty air; Gaster eyes my SOUL like a morsel of dessert he just has to have. “Perseverance, or per severance, increases one’s ability to withstand trauma with each… _severance,_ or death, if you will.”

 

Excuse me?

 

“Clearly I weathered the storm of the void, with a little help from my friend, of course.” The locket, now clenched in one of his disembodied hands, shimmers eagerly when called upon. “I do appreciate your cooperation and assistance in this effort, Sans.” The indigo heart above me gives a mournful pulse of energy at his name, highlighting the thicker bond between myself and Sans. An echo of aqua surges forth to meet it as Gaster looks on in disdain.

 

“Just l-leave us alone.” As much as I try to sound strong, my voice comes out charred and pitiful.

 

“Oh, dear-heart.” Gaster chuckles, sighing softly and shaking his head at me. He closes the distance between us, standing uncomfortably close at my bedside. The shaking starts. “Know that I do this out of LOVE.” Cupping his hands around my SOUL, he gazes down at me with mock affection. “I will break you until you cannot be broken any more.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I hope this made sense... I'm happy to explain or elaborate though if it didn't. *dies* 
> 
> Basically, I've had the week from hell. I now work in child welfare, so the week after a holiday is typically not a fun time at the office. I've also been preparing for the last step of my certification, which happens this month. Basically, I'd go out on some cases and end up having to come home to document everything that happened in those contacts. By the time I finished, it'd be time for dinner. Then after that, I'd have to suffer through online training until around midnight. Then I'd write for about 20 minutes and die on my iPad and have to rewrite half of what I did the next night. So, not fun. But! BUT! I anticipate next week to be better. I'm off on another round of training, in a different place. A place where a psychotic ex happens to live. SO I'll literally have nothing to do but sit in my hotel after class because I'll be terrified to leave lol. I say lol but I'm lowkey scared shitless. ANYWAY, author will be alrighty, y'all don't worry. 
> 
> If you have any questions or comments, feel free to place them here or ask anonymously (or otherwise) on my tumblr! 
> 
> Also, is anyone playing Pokemon GO? my life rn. 
> 
> Debating on whether or not to change the warnings after this chapter as a result of "major character death". What do y'all think?


	39. Turbine

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **WARNING: RAPE AND GRAPHIC VIOLENCE/GORE  
>  WARNING: RAPE AND GRAPHIC VIOLENCE/GORE  
> WARNING: RAPE AND GRAPHIC VIOLENCE/GORE**
> 
> non-con elements begin after the sentence "I'm not sure if that's the point." and continue until the end of the chapter.

The doctor tilts his head, observing my SOUL like a child might examine an ant through a magnifying glass. Though he bears a little life within his hands, he couldn’t appear more clinical, clucking his tongue in dissatisfaction.

 

“Perhaps we can quash the integrity within you and fully make you _mine_.” Gaster’s mouth quirks up in a wicked smile, looking away from the cracked gem of my SOUL to take in the terror in my expression.

 

“You c-can’t do that! Sans is r-right; you’re out of your f-fucking mind!” I wrench at the metal encasing my wrists and ankles desperately. SOULs don’t change. Personalities are set in adulthood. These are psychological facts.

 

“Perhaps, but given his inclination for disappointment, this theory is one I simply _must_ test.” Grinning wide, Dr. Gaster presses his fingers into my SOUL, searing shockwaves of burning agony straight through me. I don’t realize I’m screaming until he readjusts his grasp, allowing a small break in which I regain some level of functioning. I’d rather be obliterated again instead. “You see, it’s all about the intent… Maybe I should elaborate on what your SOUL is clearly resistant to at present.”

 

“P-please—!” I hiccup as he allows my SOUL to hover again, the little thing visibly trembling in suspension over my chest.

 

“I’m certain you’ve heard the tales of how the first fallen child and the royal son fused their SOULs and ascended unto the world above. It’s a pity they were just children, that they didn’t know the true power they were capable of in such a form.” He focuses oddly on the scorched husk crumbling around me, brushing it irritably away. Ash settles on Sans’s hoodie, greying the blue. I shudder involuntarily into the fabric. He’s too close.

 

“if you think she’s going to consent to a bond with you, you’re—“ Sans’s protests are smothered down by one of Dr. Gaster’s pet hands, though it seems to have a hard time keeping him quiet considering the huge hole in the middle of it.

 

“Yes, yes, out of my mind. Insane.” The pinpricks of light in Gaster’s sockets are unwavering as he roams the length of my body—is he fucking serious? “People have always made remarks as such regarding myself and my work. You’ve never been one to spare me your opinion.” My stomach churns, threatening to relieve itself again in spite of its lack of contents. “Hands can be forced, however.” He notes nonchalantly, too-long fingers dragging against one of my clenched fists.

 

“NO!” Shouting immediately, I strain once more against the metal, attempting to will my SOUL back into my body, lifting my head off the table as I fight. The heart-shaped culmination of my being stutters above me, initially following my instructions until Gaster interrupts again. My SOUL bounces up off his hand as if shocked, though he doesn’t pursue any further contact quite yet, effectively hindered from moving further to safety.

 

“Some disagreement is to be expected initially.” The man smirks devilishly, casting an aloof glance over to Sans. The incorporeal appendage over Sans’s mouth yanks his head to the side, forcing him to face me. His pupils are enormous, anxious white puddles of fear, muffled pleas now in place of his reckless sass. “Oh, no, Sans. I’m sure you’ll want to observe this portion of testing. The human SOUL may be resistant, but I wonder just how much trauma this pathetic attachment of yours can endure…” Dr. Gaster hooks his fingers around the still-visible, albeit faint, fiber stretching the length of the distance, plucking the strand before moving out of sight. Quiet pain reverberates across the divide, the prickly sense of impending danger. That up to now has been nothing. That death was nothing.

 

My head audibly _cracks_ back against the metal, the sheer force of the blow leaving me instantly reeling. My sight tunnels unhelpfully, black clouds shrouding portions of my field of vision as I struggle to remember how to breathe. Head lolling uselessly, I can’t force myself to do much of anything, squeezing my eyes shut like that’ll help the fuzziness go away faster.

 

“Come now, is that really all you’re capable of?” Sneering over me, the scientist’s voice seems to come from everywhere all at once. “I tend to enjoy a struggle moreso than simple surrender… Perhaps we need to work up to that. Still so weak—“ Another blow comes across the side of my head, against my right temple, and when my head comes to a rest, I don’t dare move again. Gaster speaks when he steps back into sight, but I can’t hear a word of what he’s saying. No ringing. Nothing. I blink uncomprehendingly up at him, eliciting what appears to be a disappointed sigh from him. I can see the next round coming, but when I prompt my neck to lurch away, there’s no response. The fragments of my skull crater into the pliable brain matter beneath. Becoming brain batter.

 

 

 

He doesn’t like to get his hands dirty. The ones attached to his frame, I mean. Unless he’s wielding a tool, some separation between bodies. Detachment.

 

“—this time?” The doctor muses above me, and I grin as my mind imagines his head split right along those cracks already present in the bone. Wide open.

 

What does monster brain look like?

 

His slender fingers waltz over a fine array of implements, all glinting silvery and bright. He selects one, a wickedly sharp knife, black-handled amongst the pristine medical equipment. It looks to be a favorite. The blade curves up from the handle, tapering dramatically to a fine point.

 

My smile’s gone. Voice lost. I open and close my mouth as if to protest, and nothing comes out.

 

“I’m certain Sans failed to inform you of anything about me. Perhaps I should take some time to introduce myself.” Gaster approaches the table once more, the whites of his eyes glimmering hungrily in the light. “In my leisure time away from the lab, which came few and far between, I took up fishing as something of a hobby.” As if still impressed with his new body, he presses the end of the knife to one finger, grinning to himself. “Waterfall, one of our many suitably named locations here in the Underground, provided an excellent location to find solitude away from the increasingly maddening requests of the King and the equally frustrating presence of my sons. But, I digress…” Taking pause, he examines the nick he’s made on his own hand, appearing pleased. “There’s something in preparing one’s spoils after all of his efforts.”

 

A loud _thud_ from behind Gaster tugs me even further on-edge, perfectly aware I’m not the only one he’s being _unkind_ to, watching the blade dip beneath the borrowed hoodie and my t-shirt.

 

“The first step, of course, is removing the scales.” With a practiced movement, he slides the blade neatly up parallel to the zipper. The very tip of the knife skims over my chin, stinging lightly and drawing just the slightest hint of blood. Pressing his thumb to the wound, and then to his mouth, his eyes loll back in his head in sweet satisfaction, sending me squirming desperately for a way out. It’s not real.

 

I must be mumbling that phrase like a goddamn prayer: this isn’t happening. He discards Sans’s shredded hoodie, casting it to a corner of the room as soon as he manages to cut it off of me, which seems to take more effort than he’d initially thought it would. His patience has effectively thinned when it comes to my own shirt, peeled away like petals.

 

“Oh dear-heart…” Tutting at me like I’m a petulant toddler, the doctor allows his free hand to pass just over my bare skin, eliciting a whole new set of tremors. This still isn’t happening. “What can I do to prove to you this is all completely and wholly real? Hm?” He allows the knife to complete the next pass, hovering ever-so-slightly above the skin. “Proceeding to the next step may help.”

 

Good news is, I found my voice again.

 

Screaming shrilly as he plunges the blade in _deep_ , I can’t tear my eyes away from the gaping hole he carves into my abdomen, one neat stroke. Wearing a crimson sweater instead. I could finger-paint with all that, I think. My breath hitches when the knife sticks in the bottom of my ribcage; his brow furrows like he didn’t expect that amount of resistance from the bones of my body.

 

Overt rejection, still. I’d laugh if I could, head thudding back against the table, blood running already thin. I think that pisses him off. One of his incorporeal hands shows me I have the guts, and something about all this reminds me of a frog on dissection day. Or a ferret. I think we did those one day too. Surely all those intestines won’t go back in there the same way now that you’ve ripped them out.

 

 

 

The determination’s settling in on Sans, I reflect curiously. The deadened look in his eyes is a sorry distraction from the chill between my thighs. I wonder if I look the same. Sick and used. I press my chapped lips into my mouth in an effort to wet them, coughing up copper.

 

Maybe he’s giving up on me. The thought hurts worse than this perpetual vivisection. I’m furious with myself, blinking away the tears and looking away.

 

I’m not a fucking puppet, I want to tell the man with his hand so far inside my abdominal cavity, it might as well be wrapped around my spine.

 

Not much of a fair fight, if he asks me. But I doubt he will.

 

I’m not sure if that’s the point.

 

 

 

When he’s sure I can endure his onslaught, and only at that point, does he proceed to the next part of his “experiment”. However certain he is, he still miscalculates either the durability of the human body in general or the actual effect of perseverance. Or his own strength. There’s a disconnect in my spinal cord, or head maybe, and I don’t think he realizes until he tries to finish that I’m not even there.

 

So we have to do it all over again.

 

 

 

I’d like to make fun of him for how long it took him to find a rhythm for someone who seems so precise.

 

Thoughts like these wilt within me while he works himself over me, sharp hipbones sinking into my skin. The inborn paroxysm within me festers further, my SOUL visibly rotting above my body. He takes pleasure in watching the radiant indigo wither, the fissures widen. I don’t know what to do. My hands grasp at the empty air, a welling desperation nestling in the pit of my belly to _fix_ this. That it’ll be alright if I just dust myself off, if only I could just do so. Please?

 

The dim realization pops faintly into my head that death isn’t coming this time. When I wish for it, badly. When I need it. My body’s just taking the sick punishment, responding even, and I fucking hate it.

 

Whore. Slut. Cum-dumpster.

 

Each rigid, clinical thrust brings a new label to mind.

 

Dying is easier. I try to will myself there.

 

My heart _slug-slugs_ slower, painfully, and the thread pulls taut. Aching pitifully at the draw, I have to let my head slump to the side. Glutton for punishment, my eyes remain fixed open, awaiting the utter disgust and disappointment sure to fill Sans’s face.

 

His hand’s around the thread—now more of a cord between us, and an echo of blue begs me to stay.

 

Not like I can do anything else.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies again for taking forever on another chapter! It's been a rough week in me-land. I'm leaving this hell-hole town tomorrow, so I'll be back home for a week, then I'll have to come back down here. Essentially, I didn't sleep the first two nights I was here, just tossed and turned. So my brother came down and stayed with me the rest of this week, which was incredibly sweet of him and allowed me to actually leave my hotel room without an excessive amount of anxiety. And sleep.
> 
> In my time on ao3, I've noticed fics with rape scenes in them occasionally get bashed pretty severely and I want to go ahead and address anybody who may have an issue with it now. This has been planned since before I even began actually writing this fic. I won't erase sexual assault from this fanfiction, as sexual assault cannot be erased from my own reality. I've dealt with my own issues through writing ever since I could make myself put the pen to paper or fingers to keyboard. Since I couldn't talk to anyone about it. It's my opinion that avoiding writing about the topic is sort of like ignoring it. It ain't going away just because it's an uncomfortable topic.  
> That said, I'm not sure how I like how this chapter turned out, but considering the mental duress I've undergone this week... yeah. Stylistically, I usually tend to avoid writing rape scenes with ultra-coherent details, as I've done here. Instead, I focus on thoughts, emotions, the weight. And I hope I conveyed that here, but lort knows with me. 
> 
> To contact the confidential National Sexual Assault Hotline, call 800.656.HOPE, which will connect you to a service provider in your area. 
> 
>  
> 
> Thank you all, as always, for reading!  
> Hit me up in them comments if you have questions, or there's always my tumblah: onthewingsoficarus.tumblr.com.


	40. Asylum

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING: suicidal ideations, mostly.

Initially, I think long and hard about smashing my head into the glass as many times as it took until I finally died. I think about the goopy mess of blood and brain matter. And then, I think about his cool anger, how he’d probably explain to me when I unwillingly came back around that it’d be necessary to “repeat the process”.

 

So, I sit with my cheek pressed against the container, watching my breath lace the glass in soft fog.

 

Clearly, he wants me to _feel_ it.

 

Time passes, I’m sure. But I can’t tell how much: nothing changes here. The neon-white spotlight beats down relentlessly, highlighting every imperfection across my skin.

 

I hate myself.

 

I press my hands against the fingerprint-bruises blossoming like a plum-colored field over my hips like that’ll stop my incessant shivering. It doesn’t.

 

Sans is still in the room, on the other side of the glass and strapped to the same table he’s been on this entire time. He hasn’t said a word since Gaster left to attend to “another matter” after disposing of me once he’d had his fill, placing me back in the cell he’d pried me from. Pregnant silence slipped into the space he left, the feeling of being watched in spite of his absence.

 

Bone fragments litter the table around Sans, damage done, though I can’t see the extent of it. I can’t bring myself to look in his direction for longer than a few seconds.

 

I scrub the flat of my palms hard over my arms, gnawing on my bloody bottom lip. Festering within myself. My SOUL lingers in the empty air, no longer solid, but mostly a dark lavender smattered in cerulean heaps, distorted. Like a heart-shaped bruise. Miserable fault-lines carve it into tiny, barely-held-together pieces.

 

And the now-thick attachment still binds my SOUL to Sans’s. I can feel it now, a soft weight laying on my already-tender heart. There’s a feral urge within me to scream at him and tell him to leave me alone. Just let it go.

 

At least let the fucking thing fall back into invisibility.

 

A soft _thwip_ behind me sends me scrabbling back against the glass, terror icing my veins and pain renewing within the movement as press myself as far away from whatever’s now in the container with me.

 

It’s his jacket. Tattered remains, but still-blue. Swallowing the lump in my throat, I gingerly peel myself away from the edge of my containment and drag myself over to it. The grate over the vent swings wide open and empty. Cautiously, I glance back down to the ruined hoodie, picking it up, and in that moment not really caring whether or not it gets me hurt again as I slide my arms into the sleeves. Sparks of blue magic alight heavily on my skin at the fabric’s contact, the ghost of a firm, steadying touch.

 

Hot tears begin to track through the blood on my face before I can stop myself, and I clutch the hoodie around my bare skin as tightly as I can. I press my hands into my eyes in an attempt to bring my self-pity to a grinding halt, but quickly dissolve into wracking sobs.

 

“knock knock.” The sweet baritone comes raspy and hoarse once I’ve started to quiet down. I almost don’t want to answer.

 

“Wh-who’s there…?” The internal debate lasts for about a minute, guilt tugging at my heartstrings enough to force me to answer.

 

“olive.”

 

I know how this one goes, whispering back, “Olive w-who…?”

 

“i love you.”

 

“S-Sans, please—.”

 

“no, i-i do. i’m _so_ fucking sorry, sweetheart...” I flinch at the nickname his father’s managed to bastardize, stopping him dead in his tracks. Silence nips at my cheeks and I bury them in the sleeves of his hoodie. The smell of smoke and copper overwhelms his scent. I don’t want to face this. I’m not going to.

 

He tries talking to me again after a few moments. I don’t try to understand what he’s saying, shutting my eyes. It’ll all go away if I could only just get to sleep.

 

Where is everyone? Did Papyrus ever make it to Undyne through the woods? Toriel had to be worried about Frisk… They can’t be dead, somehow I feel we’d know if they were. Frankenstein-Reincarnate would have rubbed our faces in it if that were the case.

 

“____.” Sans persists, sounding slightly more unhinged, and I hesitate, propping my chin up on my arms to show him I’m listening. Still can’t bring myself to look any further than his general direction. His gaze may as well be a cinder block. I tremble beneath it.

 

“I’m listening.” I prompt him in spite of my shaking, quiet bitterness lacing my tongue at the pressure.

 

“look, i’m not letting you go...” He takes in a bracing breath before continuing. “i know you know that. i know deep within your SOUL you feel that. because you didn’t let go either. you stayed when i reached.”

 

I desperately want to hurt him, to hurt _something_ , just to feel some semblance of control again. His verbal shots expertly find their marks within my shaky walls, and I wish with everything in my being to allow my fall to crush him too. If he wants to stand that close, I don’t give a fuck.

 

That’s not true.

 

Balling myself up on the floor, I clench my fists hard, ignoring the sting of my nails against my palms. The sobs come harder now, out of frustration with myself, with him, because please-just-fucking-leave-me, self-hatred because I can’t let him go either. And pain, gradually becoming more than I can handle: the more I allow myself to realize what’s happened to me, the heavier the weight becomes. I’m afraid to drop it, that I’ll have to bear more; and goddamnit if I can’t carry this, then what? Don’t cry, don’t cry, stop fucking crying…

 

“sweetheart, please just… just hear me out, okay? i love you. i love you and nothing’s going to fucking change that, okay? okay? i want to tell you that i love you until i’m so blue in the face i can’t say it anymore.” Sans pauses, and I imagine he’d give nothing more than to cup my cheeks in his hands right this second. The thought is so specific and foreign, I glance to the thread between us and find it expressively alight with the emotions he’s clearly attempting to convey. “that could actually be arranged with me, you know? i always get blue in the face when i’m around you.”

 

A broken laugh escapes amidst the settling sobs, as much as I try to bite it back, and I know he’s probably smiling ever-so-slightly.

 

“Y-you’re ridiculous.” I snuffle into his sleeves, squeezing my burning eyes shut.

 

"maybe, but only because you deserve much more than me, a-and here i am anyway.” Guilt chokes his voice off.

 

“That’s not t-true…” It takes me a moment to answer, “I d-definitely don’t deserve a-anyone like you…”

 

"nah-uh… sweetheart, look at me.” He speaks soothingly, enough to ease me into actually making eye contact with him, though it’s shaky at best. “when we’re out of here, i’m going to spend the rest of… of forever making sure you know, o-okay? i promise. and you know i don’t do that.” I sigh at that, rubbing my nose and looking down.

 

“No, I-I know…” I want to question it, how the hell he actually intends to get all of us out of here, but all I can feel from him is sincerity.

 

And the only way I can see us leaving together is in a body bag. If we ever leave. Shuddering weakly into the floor, I fail to stay steady in the quiet.

 

“y-you know, paps and i, we tried singing really terrible renditions of human lullabies to each other when gaster left us alone long enough.” Sensing my discomfort, Sans speaks up again. “it was a bit of a pitch when we got caught.” He chuckles wryly, shortly before clearing his throat. “h-he doesn’t remember… n-not that i want him too, you know? i was so awful though i’m surprised it wasn’t scored into his brain.”

 

“S-sans…” I scold him less than halfheartedly, smudging my tear-tracks with his sleeve.

 

"i-i’m happy you didn't f-forget me when you came back.” He blurts out suddenly, the fear and pain between us abruptly raw, open like our wounds. “thought he took you f-from me too.”

 

“How d-do you know he hasn’t a-already?” It certainly feels that way to me. Sans shakes his head firmly.

 

“b-because you are my sunshine.”

 

“Don’t start.” I heave a hot breath into the fabric.

 

“my _only_ sunshine.” He insists, and I imagine he’d fold his arms over his chest if he could.

 

“But do I make you h-happy when skies are grey?”

 

“’course you do. and i’ll prove it to ya when we’re on the surface, okay?”

 

Okay.

 

It’s going to be okay.

 

 

  
I dream of dust and the roar of the beast-weapon. The hallway between the Judgment Hall and the throne room, the darkness ever-beckoning from the unexplored corridor. A pair of crimson irises piercing the black, knife-like white smile. Punctured hands, blood and entrails slopping through the perfect circles and onto the floor. Wrapped around my throat, over my mouth.

But I can still breathe, speak through them--.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not super happy with this chapter, tbh grrrrrr. This is what happens to me when I find ass-kicking music instead of SAD AS FUCK. But I guess it'll help for the EVENTUAL SHITSTORM. 
> 
> brb having an existential crisis because mY BIRTHDAY'S TOMORROW. *dead*   
> being srs rn is hard!
> 
> I really appreciate everyone being respectful of what I attempted to convey last chapter, and it's always so nice to hear from you guys. Y'all make my day. Thank you all for your continued support!


	41. The Guts

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING: Graphic depictions of violence, gore, body horror
> 
> Thank the sweet Lord that [RockyRose](http://archiveofourown.org/users/RockyRose/pseuds/RockyRose) posted her chapter with "Muddy Waters" by LP attached because I NEEDED THE NEW MUSIC DESPERATELY.  
> can't write without music i s2g. plz leave me moar in the comments i'm awful. 
> 
> Without further delay, I hope you enjoy this chapter!

“I grow weary of your disobedience.” Hands clasped behind his back, the doctor stands before my containment, lips curled upward in a snarl. Pressing Sans’s mangled hoodie tighter around me, I narrow my eyes at Gaster’s feet, pushing my back against the glass as far from him as I can possibly get. “While it is a sign your vein of perseverance stretches deeper than I initially observed, the longer you draw this out, the worse the process will be on your increasingly fragile SOUL.”

 

Like it hasn’t already killed me. Several times over.

 

The cool flame of my hatred laps at the insides of my ribcage, white-hot and icy. I remain exactly where I am against the back wall of the container, making a conscious effort to keep the rise and fall of my chest gentle and calm.

 

How many days has it been?

 

The scientist cocks his head at me, seeming to find enlightenment from some divine source. “You know, I’ve never had the opportunity to truly examine a live human specimen so closely.” Bile automatically fills my mouth, the acidic sting scratching my throat to pieces. “Usually, by the time they found their way to me, they had long since perished. Typically by the King’s hand, though some found their end through environmental means. The Underground _is_ rather treacherous.” I watch him warily as he glides neatly over to Sans’s side. “As such, having the both of you presents a unique opportunity for comparative experiments. For example, bone structure.” The end of his statement is cut off by a pained yelp as he gradually applies pressure to Sans’s left wrist.

 

I can’t help myself; the ethereal wire between us draws taut, and I step forward, breath caught in my throat.

 

“S-stop!” Despite my pleas, my voice comes raw and splintered. I get the impression that, if he wanted to make this all very short, Dr. Gaster could. Instead, he just slowly twists Sans’s forearm against the metal holding him against the table. The grating of bone-on-bone, unmuted by flesh, makes it all the more apparent that no, he will not stop. The ear-splitting smile on his face explains that much very clearly.

 

“y-you think this is s-s-so humerus, d-don’t you?” Sans sneers as his father bends over him, grinding his teeth as his arm audibly _snaps_ at the wrist—how his hand doesn’t just fall straight off, I’m not sure. How he doesn’t give his father the satisfaction of a scream, I’m not sure.

 

As Gaster pulls away from Sans’s arm, I can see tiny cerise threads of what has to be determination binding the bones at the base of his hand to the radius and ulna and threading them back together, already.

 

I wonder if DT fixes phantom pain.

 

My head throbs in response to its wishful thinking.

 

“And you clearly believe this is a joke.” He’s instantly before the glass again, and I stumble backwards over my own feet, falling on my ass. I recognize the slight pull in the air now as the false hands come to gather me up once I’ve done all the damage I can do to myself at this juncture, hauling me to my feet and out. “Truly, dear-heart, it’s a shame I wasted the last bit of DT on the fool. However, it appears that my theory on perseverance was slightly in error. Rather frustratingly, after several varying tests, it appears that you still cannot de-terminate on your own.”

 

“Y-you’re calling w-what you _did to me_ a _test_?” I gape openly at him, incredulous, unable to keep my mouth shut. And I’m a little surprised he hasn’t doused that opposition within me by now. Or maybe I’m actually fucking insane. I note mutedly that Sans looks shocked.

 

Dr. Gaster takes pause for a brief moment, staring at me shortly, then forming a “come hither” motion, the pet hands bringing me closer. The proximity instantly has me squirming uncomfortably, kicking against the floor in an effort to get as far the fuck away from him as humanly possible.

 

“gaster, no! j-just fucking stop this! break something else o-on me, _stop! please!_ ” I can practically feel the epinephrine flood surging through my veins as my entire body recoils from his presence. He has at least two feet on me, I think to myself, gawking wide-eyed up at him in taciturn terror as Sans’s protests grow increasingly desperate.

 

The scientist takes in a full breath, licking his lips as if he can taste my fear in the air, very pointedly ignoring every word out of Sans’s mouth. “You feel I wasn’t being very _fair_ initially, hm? Did you want a chance to FIGHT?” He exhales hotly, the air wet and rancid against my face. Dumbly, I stand stock-still, completely locked in place even as the hands release me. Several seconds pass, a small eternity, a blip in time in which we remain unchanged, unmoved as my SOUL rises morosely from my chest, visibly shuddering in response to the other SOUL that enters the space. Lavender light somberly bathes the room, overwhelming my persistent, if muddled indigo.

 

And then, with no further warning, a very tangible skeletal hand swings _hard_ across my face. The sensitive skin over my right cheek tears with the sheer force of the blow, and I’m instantly off balance and reeling. Somehow, I can hear the whistling of the hole in the center of his palm as the next strike hums in close, and I half-stumble-half-duck under the blow. My luck doesn’t last long; I raise my left arm over my head to block my head, and he catches it in his grasp, twisting the wrist with enough just enough force to earn him a muted  _crack_ and tossing me viciously to the floor. I cry out as the entirety of my weight rolls onto my right ankle and then off by the time my ass hits the hard floor beneath me.

 

He’s on me in an instant, and I lift my feet up to keep him away, pressing my likely-broken wrist to my chest. Fuck my ankle, stay the fuck away from me. He doesn’t take my threat seriously until I catch him in the groin with a well-placed kick, forcing him back cupping himself through his pants.

 

Blood washes warmly over the side of my face like war-paint; he may have drawn it first, but I smell it too.

 

I remain on my back, readying myself to kick the shit out of him again the instant he comes back around, not daring to move from the position I’ve found small success in. Sure enough, within a moment, he makes another pass, though he’s prepared this time. I lash out wildly when he gets close enough, and he’s able to catch my right foot. In desperation, I kick hard with my other foot, though it only glances to the outside of his thigh. Increasingly terrified, I attempt to bring my heel back down on his kneecap, only to have that foot caught as well. Within a second, Gaster’s through my guard, grappling with the shredded hoodie I’m clutching frantically to my body. Crying and screaming unintelligibly, I scrabble against the floor to get away from him. He releases the fabric long enough to grab beneath my knees, dragging me forward and directly against him, his frustration progressively visible.

 

When his indicative positioning sends me into an even wilder frightened frenzy, a closed fist finds its way across my already-injured cheek and my head smacks against the floor. Inadvertently, I bite down hard on my tongue as I attempt to hold my teeth in their gums, the coppery tang of blood flooding my mouth. I’m not given enough time to truly process anything more than the initial surge of pain; the same hand sinks into my hair, yanking my head back cruelly.

 

“I will take enormous pleasure in the moment your SOUL is ripe for our bond.” Gaster tells me, voice laden in sickly sweet tenderness as his free hand threatens to clench over my throbbing SOUL. “And though you FIGHT, I sense your resistance to the idea fading even now.”

 

Something inside me just fucking shatters. Probably my sanity.

 

I remember being about five years old, leaning through the bars connecting the railing to the staircase and letting a globule of spit dribble out of my mouth in my boredom, just to see how long it’d take to hit the ground. My dad came up next to me, intent on undermining my mother’s commands of ladylike behavior, and instructed me, “Now, if you really want to do some damage…” before hauling off and practically launching a projectile of spittle halfway across the parking lot.

 

I mimic the memory, spitting blood right into Gaster’s face. It works, miraculously, and he falls backward with a furious roar, covering his empty eyesockets. Scrambling to my feet, I attempt to stagger to Sans’s side, the ghost of a smile tugging at my lips at the possibility of maybe, just maybe being able to reach him. I can see Sans say my name, but I can’t hear him over the din of my own blood rushing past my ears.

 

And then, like a lightning strike, it hits. The _thunk_ of pressure against my upper back, a white vignette haloing my vision for no longer than a second. Rather frustratingly, there’s no pain to be felt, but my knees give out beneath me, and I cave to the floor as Sans’s eyes gutter into a blackened nothingness. When I cough, I don’t think the blood coming up is from my tongue.

 

“I can feel your despairing self-assurances. You continually insist that you love my son, and yet you continue to harm him by prolonging your suffering…” Soft as black velvet, the scientist adjusts his voice to put a new hypothesis to the test. For once, it appears he’s correct. The kindred paroxysm gnawing at Sans’s SOUL grows stronger each time he has to watch me die, in cloying harmony with my own corrosion.

 

“th-that’s not true, ____, y-you know it’s not—!” I flinch as Gaster’s hand comes down on Sans’s skull, crushing him into the table as he’d done to me. Sans slurs my name then as he reels from the blow, over and over. The doctor repeats the action to shut him up. It only half-works: Sans endeavors to piece my name together through clenched teeth.

 

“You could make this _easy_ on the both of you. End this hopeless infatuation.” Gaster digs his thumb into the temporal surface of Sans’s skull, forcing a whimper from his throat. “There is no point in continuing it, I assure you—.”

 

“Doctor?” Flowey forces Frisk to drag themselves in through the metal door, having them toddle inside the room and come a little closer. Teeny weedlings sprout from Frisks’s shoulders and throat, especially in the places I’m sure Flowey’s vines have rested for the past however-fucking-long, their eyes hollow and breath coming short. Every so often, a twitch wracks Frisk’s entire body, and the little leaves tremble as if in fear.

 

Gaster simply stares back in livid silence, allowing Flowey to explain why on earth he’d interrupted this moment of maybe-victory. Sans huffs raggedly at the release of pressure on his cranium as Gaster pulls his hand away to fold his arms over his chest.

 

Timidly, Flowey begins to speak on his own, unnerved as he glances down at Frisk’s unmoving mouth. “Sir, I don’t think I can hold Frisk much longer without a SOUL myself. They’re becoming more determined to break through, and it won’t be long until they do. I… I know you wanted to wait, but if Frisk gets through my hold, they’ll RESET.”

 

Gaster growls lowly, kneading his temples in his hands before relenting, “Very well. Bring the child here.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> When the writer's block hits and you just wanna punch it in the THROAT fml. I think I had difficulty here because I know what I'm trying to get to, but it's a matter of getting there... I apologize for the slowness, again, and thank you for your patience. I'd give anything to be able to just write this all day. I have my last week of training in this hellhole town starting now, and then I'll be done with training until September. I do have to study this week, and I take my certification test on Friday so... wish me luck again! I'll still be writing though, even if it's just a little at a time (but knowing me I'll likely procrastinate on the studying until Thursday and write the rest of the time lol).
> 
> WILL THE SUFFERING EVER END?  
> WILL SANS AND READER GET A HAPPY ENDING?  
> IS ANYBODY GONNA DIE A HORRIBLE DEATH?  
> HOW MANY LICKS DOES IT TAKE TO GET TO THE CENTER OF A TOOTSIE POP?  
> the world may never know. actually jk y'all will know 3/4 of those eventually... one probably sooner than the others. ;)


	42. Overexposure

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING: body horror, minor character death, gore. 
> 
> FINALLY done with all of my training until September woot woot! I'm so tired lol. Hope you all enjoy this chapter!

Breathing gradually becomes a maddening process, feels more like drowning. Wet and messy and slow.

 

I won’t be treading water for long, I don’t think.

 

Flowey appears to tussle briefly with Frisk’s body before managing to continue to impose his will upon them, forcing them to proceed to the metal table at the far end of the row. Gathering their body onto the table looks to be another, more difficult story.

 

Dr. Gaster leaves Flowey to the task, clearly repulsed by his struggles, and I watch him guardedly through the blossoming haze of blood-loss. The scientist’s lengthy strides carry him effortlessly to the other side of the room; it only takes him a moment to find what he’s looking for. The golden locket, spinning on its thick chain with at almost-knowing air of anticipation, casts off the slightest reflections of light from the LEDs above us. Gaster carries it forward, the shimmering dulling as black goop begins to seep from the crack in the locket, just as it had before.

 

"Y-you took m-m-me for them.” I protest thickly from the floor as I begin to realize what he’s intending, recalling exactly how I’d wound up here in the first place. “I-I-I traded myself f-for them.” Dr. Gaster turns away from Flowey to look down upon me with intensely pronounced disgust. “Y-you a-agreed!” I insist, propping myself shakily up on one elbow.

 

“Dear-heart, did you truly believe I’d pander to the wishes of a pathetically weak human?” Gaster chuckles scathingly, shaking his head to himself. He disdainfully strolls around the table, locking Frisk’s limbs into place.

 

I seem to have minor difficulty in wrapping my head around why on earth he hadn’t kept his word. Or maybe why on earth I’d trusted him to do so. I inhale shakily, shrinking into myself at the gradually mounting pain.

 

“This has been always been the plan. The child will serve to generate chaos, allowing me to step into the rift they create.” The great Dr. Gaster explains simply, his words falling somewhat egotistically with said child currently embodied within the locket in his hand and the other entity he’s working with just a few feet away. If Flowey takes notice, he doesn’t show it.

 

“Do you think there’s any way we could move forward with me too?” Flowey pipes up after Frisk’s trembling body’s in place on the operating table, unwinding his vines from all but Frisk’s neck. When Gaster wheels on him, he flinches slightly, but straightens up immediately after. “I’ve done everything you _needed_ me to, so I don’t know why you wouldn’t give me the SOUL I’ve _earned_.” Flowey’s self-righteous high-pitched tone is back, and he turns his face up at Gaster expectantly.

 

I’m not sure if Flowey can sense the tension in the room shift, but I feel it tight in my own chest as Gaster gazes down at Flowey with barely restrained loathing.

 

“Very well.” The doctor finally relents, and I wrack my brain in an attempt to understand while I still can. What SOUL could he possibly be—? Flowey’s face splits in an eerily wide grin up until Gaster speaks once more, “We will handle your _situation_ once we have this settled.” Flowey’s expression hardens briefly before he nods, looking very ready to be relieved of Frisk.

 

“Fine.” The flower child huffs, folding their leaves over their stem and allowing Dr. Gaster to move closer to his host.

 

Wheezing quietly as the last of the adrenaline rush fades from my bloodstream and allows the pain to fully set in, I lift my hands to cradle my still-visible SOUL. Even my own careful touch sends a cascading ache throughout my entire body, but I persist, bringing the tender heart against my chest in hopes that it’ll just go back inside. It won’t. Tears of frustration prickle at the corners of my eyes, and they only serve to upset me further. We’re going to lose Frisk now. We’re going to lose them; I’m probably going to die again. Alphys is probably dead somewhere else in the lab. Sans will likely be soon to follow me. And Dr. Gaster will use my body as a meatsuit and my SOUL to increase his power or something.

 

I don’t know what to do.

 

We’re all going to die. Well, maybe not me. Sounds like I’ll get to endure a living hell.

 

There’s a feather-light weight on the wire, but I can’t force myself to look.

 

With a gesture of finality, Dr. Gaster latches the golden chain behind Frisk’s head, laying the locket itself upon their chest. There’s a moment of silence in which nothing seems to happen, a growing sense of cool dread oozing over the room. And then, the locket shudders against their shirt, the parasitic baby-weeds littering Frisk’s body wilting.

 

Flowey gingerly unlatches himself from Frisk, wrapping himself around the table’s guardrail. In his wake, deep ligature marks lace Frisk’s neck in dried blood and dark surrounding bruises, complimented by a multitude of puncture wounds. He leans over Frisk, worrying his bottom lip in his teeth in anticipation as liquid blackness seeps from the locket. It moves as if it were alive, squelching its way to Frisk’s face after pausing briefly to seemingly observe the wounds Flowey made.

 

"Flowey." Gaster promptly tugs the flower-monster from his train of thought, beckoning him to come along. “It will likely take a moment for Chara to settle in. Let them be. The child has been asleep for a long time now.” The goopy fluid seems to lurch at the sound of that name, slugging into Frisk’s mouth and nostrils. As if trying to fight off the invader, Frisk’s SOUL ignites, a bright crimson within their chest. A beacon.

 

Flowey hesitates, lingering over Frisk’s shuddering body briefly before turning, extending a vine to Gaster so that he may be gathered up. The scientist takes ahold of Flowey, allowing him to find purchase in the sleeve of his lab coat and carrying him to another workspace off to the far side of the room. I note his deliberate decision to leave the middle table open; he clearly hasn’t forgotten about me, though he’s left me discarded for now.

 

Though it currently feels like I’m breathing through a straw, the pain’s plateauing now, indicating the damage he did wasn’t fatal. It probably should be. I attempt to shift onto the balls of my feet, and through the blurring medley of agonies, I can make out a particular burning pain lancing between my ribs. Reaching for the source proves relatively fruitless, as all I manage to do is discern that I was stabbed. As much as I’d like to get ahold of the weapon he’s stuck me with, it’s embedded just so I can’t grasp ahold of it. Even if I could, removing it likely wouldn’t be wise. It’d just kill me; I’d either bleed out or suffocate. I’m comforting myself with these wonderfully reassuring thoughts.

 

A soft orange glow permeates the lab, like the light of the dying sun as it dips beneath the horizon. I lift my head, recognizing the SOUL as Gaster pulls it free of himself. Dr. Abernathy. I can almost feel the thin thread of life his SOUL’s clinging to in the world above. Flowey gazes hungrily upon the heart-shape softly throbbing in Dr. Gaster’s grasp. I don’t want to watch what happens next.

 

Flowey opens his mouth, revealing an impressive array of dagger-sharp teeth, and Gaster presents the SOUL to him more openly, allowing it to hover up out of his hands. I wonder what dying like that feels like. Is it a quiet disconnect? Or is it a hollowing flame gutting him alive? I morbidly begin to wander within my mind. Can he feel it now?

 

When Gaster does the same to me, will it look just like this? I imagine he’d take a bite out of it first, like a particularly crisp apple he’s savoring.

 

Flowey devours the SOUL like a blackhole snuffs out a star, jaws snapping shut over the culmination of someone else’s entire being. He shudders in satisfaction, licking his lips as that same orange radiance trickles through his body.

 

It doesn't matter. Offering myself up like a lamb for slaughter didn’t make a damn bit of difference, only prolonged what was inevitable this entire time. The whole reason this shit started was in an effort to recover that SOUL.

 

Well, we found it.

 

“____.” Sans’s broken voice pulls my attention away from the master and the unwitting puppet. Delicately pulsing red light illuminates the cracks webbing across his skull, piecing it back together, though his expression seems to shatter at seeing my face. I don’t know what to do, I want to tell him.

 

It isn’t supposed to be this way. We had each other; we did, I swear.

 

There’s another tug, this one more insistent than the last, the distress within him growing just as I finally allow my brain to register the realization it’s already made repeatedly. We’re both going to die.

 

“S-sans, I-i—.” I choke either on blood or the fat tears rolling down my cheeks, the ache in my SOUL becoming unbearable. All I wanted was a chance with him; I thought it’d work this time, just maybe I’d get to be happy.

 

But no.

 

Just as the surge of my pain reaches point break, some foreign desire to comfort reaches for me. For my SOUL. The heart strains against my hands, pounding hard when my eyes find Sans’s. His SOUL is a full moon hanging in the night sky, even cradled in the air above his chest.

 

Call me a lunatic.

 

His intentions hum softly through the silver fiber between us, and I swear I can almost hear his voice in my head as I release the hold on my SOUL. “do you trust me?” Of course I do.

 

For you, always.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SOME SHIT IS ABOUT TO HAPPEN. Any guesses as to what's going down? ;)
> 
> Believe it or not, we're closing in on the end of this part of the story (okay there's still several chapters left but still lol)! There will 1100000% be a sequel, but I wanted to ask whether you guys preferred it to be here in the same story or in a separate fic. Personally, I'm a fan of a separating the different fics, but I wanted to ask before making my final call. 
> 
> Thank y'all as always for reading! Hope you have a wonderful weekend!


	43. Galvanize

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Going through hell going through hell going through heeeeeellllllll omg. Thank you all for your continued support, seriously. Each comment and kudo and everything means so fricking much to me, y'all. Especially on days I've had where I feel like I can't put any words together. So thank you again... 
> 
> Now to see if anybody was correct! Enjoy!

Our SOULs enter a collision course, acting on instinct, on the intentions they’ve clearly reflected ever since the beginning. Even before that moment in my dorm room. The draw, a perilous magnetism; we were done for the instant we’d laid eyes on each other in the conference room. Little peculiarities: the way his irises shimmer like stars, how my face creates two teeny dimples when I smile a certain way. Typically when I smile for him.

White-and-blue-and-purple-and-turquoise, the SOULs crash together in midair, and all I can feel is him. His regret, his guilt, how he wishes he could do this right, still, first and foremost. My fear, my self-loathing, these aren’t so foreign to the man on the other side of the bond.

That’s what this is, isn’t it?

A fleeting thought of the two of us exploring each other, a happy union, taking our time in lovingly sharing SOULs. Not this crushing flood.

I think that’s me reassuring him that if this is all we have, this is what we must make due with. This is enough. It will have to be.

Kinetic energy I didn’t realize I had left in me drives me to my feet, the wire pulling at our bodies as well as our SOULs. Shock fills Sans’s expression when his arm, the one that’d been broken, shatters the metal shackle surrounding his wrist as if it were made of glass. His free hand finds mine, and we cling to each other tightly, driftwood at sea. You are all I have, we will each other to know, to understand. To feel. Don’t you dare let go.

I don’t think I could at this point if I tried.

I’m dimly aware of the explosion of color surrounding us, an enraged howl of fury just out of reach, the pounding pressure of the earth above.

Shades of memories are soon to follow. The shared ones come forth first, the easiest to recall almost instantly, and a rapid-fire blur indicative of the recurring fact that we haven’t had near enough time. And then, him, that this isn’t new. A cocktail of traits drawn from human specimen, babybones, love and LOVE, Papyrus. Sunspot. Tether to sanity, until that’s taken too. Unbearable weight, bearing it anyway. Because what else is he going to do? Regularity, a pattern, one he endeavors to follow but cannot. It always slips away. He’s always been here before. Nothing new about the knife carving through his ribs, not-his scarf around his neck, hellfire. Dust. Nothing new about Grillby's, side-by-side on the barstools, hamburgers and fries. History, his story, forever to repeat itself. Or so it seems.

There’s the impression he’s seeing just as much on my end. Daddy’s girl, mother’s bane, a brother who never was. Unending _whys_. My father’s SOUL, haloed in the headlights, swallowed whole. Running. Wistful wanderlust. Hair of the dog. A broken heart, clutching the pieces close, shakily extending them asking _please can you put them back together_ when my walls fell down. They were returned in even smaller shards—.

It’s too much, minds spinning in the kaleidoscope of color and feeling. There’s so much unsaid, I gather. In the middle of everything right, it’s still all wrong. But it can be alright, someday. Not now, not months from now, maybe not years. But we’ll get there, patience and perseverance, a promise. Trust. Eventually.

In the whirlwind of our rapidly fusing sentiments, the bond deepens drastically, a sudden rush of monster magic and human heart. My head knocks against his skull beneath the sheer gravity of the combined power—an internal chuckle that isn’t mine at the thought—and I squeeze my eyes shut. A desire to show me something, to explain—not the time. Tremulous confidence almost instantaneously broken, c o n f u s i o n.

Something isn’t happening that should be.

Never enough _time_ , might as well be a freight train. The disconnect is vicious; I’m throttled to the floor, head snapping back. There’s definitely blood this time, warm and sticky smearing between the strands of hair. Over it all, the horrible ache of _alone_ , though I’m relieved to see the bond holding tight, tighter than ever in spite of that we’ve been torn apart physically. Over the doctor’s shoulder, Sans scrambles to wrench free of all the metal holding him down now that one of his hands is available. His magic struggles to form, little blue bursts that aren’t quite there. His panic reverberates off my own, louder, exacerbating each other’s perceptions. A feedback loop we clearly haven’t worked out very well.

Gaster loops my hair around his hand, yanking violently. Yelping, I shut my eyes tight. “Look at me.” He snarls lowly, lifting me by my hair and forcing my feet under me before driving me back into the wall behind me. The blade in my back twists at the impact, and breathing is suddenly nearly impossible. Gasping like a fish out of water, I can only writhe for so long before I’m reduced to flopping uselessly, grabbing weakly at his hands. “Please, what? You wish for death, dear-heart?” I hadn’t realized I’d been making any discernible noise.

The pressure I’d felt with Sans becomes a reality, a terrible rolling rumble in the millions of tons of soil and rock above all of our heads, and we all come to a half-halt. Is that—? Are they coming for us?

Dr. Gaster, seeming to understand as he always does, leans forward first, hissing into my ear, “I saw that spark of hope within your eyes, dear-heart.” So I was right then.

 _Patience_. Sans. That’s Sans. So I keep my eyes on Dr. Gaster over the steadily rising tide of my anxiety. Even after he sinks his hand into my flesh, intending to disembowel; he must be angry if he’s doing this himself.

"Ah-ah. You’re not going _anywhere_ , smiley trashbag. C’mere! Let’s play a game! I call it **_whack-a-skull_**.” Flowey intervenes the instant Sans is free from the table, rather vicious-looking vines twisting in the air as they sprout to life, towering over Sans. Helplessly, he glances back at me briefly, only just managing to slip away when Flowey attempts to take advantage of his little distraction.

Another tremor through the earth felt at my back brings me back around. I find the scientist’s hollow gaze, and I don’t think I’ve ever sensed so much hate in one look. He wants to tear me apart with his teeth. _Patience_. An undercurrent in the swell of hysteria.

“Let go of him, now. End it before I have to **_destroy you both_**.” I flinch at the command, hot breath in my face, thoughts scattering to it briefly.

There is a perceivable end, and I have to get there. The black tinge around my vision appears inclined to slide further, but I resist—I don’t want to go. Fear clenches my heart _hard_ , a ferocious vice-grip ever-tightening. I might pop. Even as his hand presses through my belly, and his other makes to squeeze the life out of my SOUL, I will not go. I’m not going, I won’t go, no—tension swells behind my eyes—a flicker of a thought in the space between heartbeats.

Last ditch, _sweetheart. just_ try.

It’s all going to

come falling

Down..

.

We aren’t alone in here.

A labored exhale leaves my lips, and I breathe life into the reaper. We. The guiding light at the back of my head, at the back of my hands. It’s mine; I’m possessive of something I don’t quite know. Only by the evisceration, obliteration, I ask please, for me? Only ask for the same. Nothing more.

It’s there, I’m not just imagining this, eldritch horror, head of a hellhound. _Gaster Blaster—how—_ Sans supplies across the bond. Its mouth splits wide in a toothy grin. Mine does too. Despite the name. But maybe that’ll make it sweeter.

I feel then it’s me, not we, eager to dole his out his death.

"Such a pretty smile. I’m going to tear it right off.”

“N-no.” I sneer through the blood in my mouth, stickily grinding my teeth. “I’ll h-have _yours_.”

The beast inhales, a muddled mixture of lavender and blue, me, my intentions, welling in its clenched jaws. Dr. Gaster’s grasp around my SOUL falters as he turns, straight into the face of the monstrous being.

I wish I could say he’s shocked, or better yet, absolutely terrified. But he’s not.

“Perfect.” He says simply, grinning off-balance. The color drains from my face just as Sans manages to hack away enough of Flowey to turn to me; the realization reaches the both of us simultaneously.

This may be exactly what he wants. It’s not going to stop here; this is only the beginning. And we’ll play right back into his—.

Inborn instinct and guided precision fueled by mounting terror, I cast my right hand out unthinkingly, following the figment of a memory, distinctly not-mine, golden and radiant. There’s a subtle shift in the air, just a split second, and then the beast-weapon fires. I squeeze my eyes shut against the massive pull on my SOUL, leveled to my knees as Dr. Gaster’s grip dissolves within the divine light.

Relief doesn’t come.

I know he's still here.

Heaving panicked breaths, I brace my hands on the floor, barely held together. Vision still tunneling. Blinking blearily, I don’t immediately recognize why my skin smatters with gooseflesh. Why the overhead lights fizzle nearly out. Why it’s suddenly so unbearably cold.

The air _sings_ as a knife— _the_ knife, grim recognition across the bond—swings close enough to carve a chunk out of me. I practically collapse in my pitiful attempt to dodge, still caught on the cheek. What should have been a deft killing blow is deflected by a bone-projection, ivory and discharging ineffective crimson determination.

 _up_ , I stumble to my feet, miraculously swaying out of the way of the next slice. Another bone knocks away the next strike as I continue to retreat; I’m so lost I can hardly tell where each is coming from, register that Frisk’s our attacker. The only reason I’m so sure is due to Sans’s bleak certainty. i’ve seen this before, but I haven’t.

I find myself, back pressed against Sans’s, clutching my stomach with my left arm as Sans surrounds us in more-like-his-usual array of white and aqua magic. Flowey’s deranged giggling underscores the tap-tap of shoes against the slightly-gummy metal floor.

Just beyond the conjured protection stands Frisk, or Chara inhabiting Frisk’s body. Grinning savagely, they flex their fingers around the handle of the knife before looking over at us with a kind of manic glee in their eyes.

**_“Greetings.”_ **

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this chapter was intended to be sketched out and dissonant. Reader's the narrator and Reader is DEFINITELY CONFUSED as far as everything happening. She and Sans don't get the luxury of a calm and really loving bond because of the situation, so she doesn't understand a lot of what a bond actually entails... At least not yet. However, it gave her access to magic...  
> Questions and comments are always welcome! My tumblr, if ya don't wanna comment here, is onthewingsoficarus.tumblr.com


	44. Breach

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SWEET BABY JESUS I'M BACK. More on my bullshit at the end of the chapter, I'm not going to keep you guys waiting any longer.

A tremor surges up both my spine and Sans’s, pressed directly into my back. It isn’t quite a child’s voice spilling from Frisk’s mouth, and I can’t help but verbally reach for them.

 

“F-Frisk?” I try, wheezing weakly as my brain struggles to play catch-up.

 

**_“Hardly. Though I suppose they are still here…”_** Chara uses Frisk’s body to shrug, picking their nails with the already-bloody knifepoint. **_“I almost wish I’d have been compatible with you, ____. That blaster work was admittedly impressive.”_** They glance back up to smile tauntingly.

 

I guess I did call for it, then. If I wasn’t so delirious by now, I think I’d feel numb at that thought.

 

“cut the crap, chara. we—she knows what you are.” Sans growls lowly; seems I’m not alone in my somewhat conjoined thinking.

 

**_“You genuinely prefer my other form? Strange, I thought it gave you nightmares…”_** Pitch black tears begin rolling down Frisk’s cheeks, dripping thick as congealing blood. They look to be in pain.

 

“S-stop… Whatever y-you’re doing to them, j-just stop!” I have no idea what I’m going to do to convince Chara to listen to me, but I certainly don’t feel like much of a threat anymore. My SOUL feels sucked-dry: whether from the welling emotions surrounding my predicament or managing to scrape together enough borrowed magic from Sans to haul up a… Gaster Blaster, I’m not sure. Either way, I’m extremely doubtful I can produce another in this state.

 

**_“I’m afraid I can’t do that. It’s been a long time since I’ve had access to a body… five whole years. Feels so nice to stretch.”_** Languidly, Chara lifts their arms above their head, smiling at the pull of their muscles. Frisk’s muscles. The line blurs somewhat as Sans’s perspective bleeds into mine. Heavenly Father, we’re gathered here today for a reason. Chara chose Frisk for a purpose.

 

no one is inherently good, but I argue back that no one is inherently evil either. The underlying thought likely presses through, that I won’t participate in killing an individual who didn’t have any say. It’s true, this time.

 

“I guess a human SOUL really didn’t do it for me…” Flowey speaks up, seemingly fishing for a certain kind of response from Chara. It’s clear by his dissatisfied expression that the slight quirk of Chara’s head isn’t what he’s looking for. “I need a monster.” Flowey tries once more, and this seems to catch Chara’s interest.

 

**_“Well, friend, I think we can do that much, hm?”_** Their eyes glint something sinister as they cast their gaze upon us, directing their knife at Sans. The aloof impression I garner isn’t a comfort, and I turn to him, incredulous at least until the lights go out.

 

“Sans?!” Terrified, I call out into the dark even though I can feel he’s close. Even though I’m the one facing Chara. There’s a blip in time where that presence disappears; he’s gone.

 

I have a hint of a thought to put my hands up in front of my face, and I actually manage to catch the handle of the knife as Chara’s second pass is directed more at me. Genuinely surprised, I wrangle with the teenager, though I quickly realize this won’t last very long. They’re even better at this than they look. Sure enough, shaky wrists lead to a slipped grip, and I stumble back, blind in the dark under Chara’s certainly rapid onslaught. _Sans_. Not quite out of nowhere, he brandishes a thicker bone in front of us, electric blue catching the reflective surfaces around the room in an eerie unnatural glow. Chara’s blade sticks firmly within the marrow as Sans animates the bone, replacing blue with white.

 

**_“Ah, the beautiful benefits of a bond. I’m sure you hardly cast a second thought in your loving defense."_** Chara sneers bitterly, and it only takes a split-second for a grin to twist up their lips. Prickling paranoia envelops my skin; why are they smiling, stop smiling. It’s like they can’t _stop_ smiling. Their grin hasn’t faltered _once_ since they opened their eyes. Unsettling though it is, Sans’s presence is stabilizing enough to keep me fairly oriented. _watch the weed._ There’re still two of them; Flowey curiously stretches his vines, orange light flickering from the now-barbed ends. dumbass, the common thread has us smirking. And then has me trying to reject any of Sans’s certain confidence seeping through.

 

**_“You should know better than to get so close.”_** Manic glee at their forewarning; they’re just a storm we have to ride out. Sans shirks millimeters from the blade when Chara yanks it free; the hum of mirroring magic zings under our ribs.

 

“Frisk, please…” My voice is nearly gone, just like theirs. A soft pang of guilt pushes into my chest, drawing it even tighter though the emotion doesn’t feel wholly mine.

 

**_“Aw, how sweet. They can hear you, you know.”_** They sway briefly on their feet before lunging. I manage to dart out of the way, oddly weightless. It’s scarcely enough each time Chara advances, first on me, then on Sans, the both of us a hair away from what’d likely be a lot of bloodshed. It’s difficult even in the moment for me not to be surprised either by my own movements or Chara’s inaccuracy; it feels almost effortless. Almost.

 

I'm not sure how we're still on our feet. Exhaustion two-fold, closer and closer to a slip-up each passing second.

 

Just as Chara’s smile begins to twitch in frustration, just as they lean toward recklessness to achieve their goals, our deadly dance draws to a close with a series of short rumbles, very close. They lock their stance, staring at the doorway.

 

A fleeting thought of a sharpened femur, extremely specific, lancing Chara’s chest slides surreptitiously to the forefront of my mind. I push it away almost immediately, shooting a short glance Sans’s way, _no._ When he looks back however, there’s the odd familiarity of a red scarf, the weight around my throat but not. Dust. My arms itch.

 

if it’s papyrus, we will have to ACT. I can’t help but agree.

 

Personally, I'm expecting Undyne to come crashing through the door, but it’s not the captain of the Royal Guard standing fiercely in the light cast into the room from the hallway.

 

**_"Greetings, mother."_**   Sneering fiendishly, Chara draws themselves mostly out of their aggressive stance, the image of innocence in rolling their foot coyly. Their voice completely levels Toriel, who suddenly has eyes for nothing else in this world but that child embodied within another.

 

“Chara…?!” Unthinking, disbelieving, she takes a step forward, all hint of menace lost in a swell of mothering instinct.

 

**_“Mother, you love your son, don’t you? Well, he needs something you can give him…”_**   They extend a hand like a child asking for a piece of candy, clutching their knife behind their back. Toriel fixates on them, and I wonder if Chara’s possession extends even beyond Frisk. If its tendrils lap at Toriel’s mind, persuading her to come closer. Please, for your children. Mothers sacrifice for their children.

 

“BROTHER! ____! WHERE ARE YOU?!” Papyrus, and he’s close. i will not let this happen _again_.

 

My compounding fear half-generates another blaster over the immobilizing tension, and it fires off a weak burst of energy from its malformed mouth without my say. Its automatic target is Chara, and they’re forced to snap their attention away. Snarling furiously, their ruse falls away, and they launch off the balls of their feet toward me while I reel on my feet at the further expenditure of energy. Sans is quick to intervene, forcing them to change course with a round of white and blue bones, heaving desperate breaths. We need _help_ ; I glance frantically to Toriel before having to duck away from Chara.

 

“toriel!” Sans tries to spur her into motion, though I can feel his heart drop into his stomach as Papyrus tears into the room behind her. Chara, sensing weakness in his distress, wheels to take advantage of it. Papyrus skillfully fends Chara off; perhaps they’ve underestimated him. or maybe they still don’t have full control of the body they’ve been without. they aren’t as calculating as they once were, but maybe that’s Frisk’s interference. We’d like to hope.

 

“FRISK, I DO NOT UNDERSTAND WHY YOU ARE DOING THIS. BUT YOU DON’T QUITE LOOK YOURSELF EITHER.” Wielding two long bones, Papyrus deflects Chara’s attempts to stab him with ease.

 

**_“Alas, poor Papyrus! It’s a pity you don’t feel what I did to you every time we meet again, just like your brother’s phantom pain of my knife in his ribs. Still a complete fool.”_** Faster, Chara advances on Papyrus, hunting for an opening. Confusion wracks Papyrus’s expression, though he seems to recall his mission and presses on.

 

“IF YOU DO NOT ALLOW ME TO RETREIVE SANS AND ____ I WILL BE FORCED TO USE MY SPECIAL ATTACK.” it’s not an empty threat. Sure enough, seconds later a heavy blue magic envelopes Frisk’s blackened SOUL, a mirror image of Sans’s SOULwork. Papyrus throws his hand out, hurling Chara roughly into the far wall. They hack and gasp, unable to quite get immediately to their feet. “COME ON, BROTHER!” He commands, beckoning us forward.

 

My hand finds Sans’s and I start into a run, or as best of one as I can manage. Before I can take more than two steps, it feels like my arm’s nearly jerked out of its socket though I still am able to to maintain Sans’s hand, and I crash to my knees, looking back in bewilderment.

 

**_“Not so fast, smiley trashbag. Give. me. your. SOUL.”_** Flowey’s significantly longer vines ensnare Sans’s left leg, dragging him closer as the barbs sink into the bone.

 

“Sans!” I struggle to keep ahold of his hand, clasping it in both of mine, but finding no purchase in the metal floor. Flowey yanks us both along the floor toward him until Papyrus catches up to me. Gathering me quickly around the waist, Papyrus scoops me up and pulls as well, and the sudden added assistance surprises me to the point where I nearly lose my grip on Sans. “H-hold on! Don’t let go!”

 

boy, does that sound familiar.

 

It’s jarring, but I cling to him with renewed fierceness as Papyrus digs his heels in as best as he can. Surely feeling stretched almost to the breaking point, Sans squeezes his eyesockets shut, grunting in pain under his breath.

 

Heat washes over my body and face as fireballs of pure magical composition soar overhead, blooming upon contact against Flowey’s vines. He screeches out of both anger and agony, releasing his hold on Sans, but almost instantly reaching for him again. Papyrus moves quickly, rushing forward and hauling Sans into his grasp as well. Flowey hisses, aggravated by his loss, and lashes out to entangle Papyrus.

 

Another set of fireballs comes hurtling in, raining down with enough precision to allow Papyrus to slip away from Flowey’s grasp and make a break for the door. Toriel, haloed in flames, stands with fading strength, tearfully holding a hand up in warning at the looming terror behind us. I can feel it, glancing over Papyrus’s shoulder to find Chara standing within the firestorm.

 

**_“C’mon, Flowey… Mother may not love us anymore, but we can always show her a little LOVE, can’t we?”_** Chara’s eyes leak their black crocodile tears as they exaggeratedly stumble to gather up Flowey’s pot close to them.

 

Toriel exhales sharply like she’s just been punched in the gut, “Asriel…?!”

 

“Howdy, **_Mother._** _”_ Flowey smiles wildly, showing his teeth despite his pain, and it takes Papyrus physically pushing her to the door to get her out. “Be seeing you **_real soon.”_**

 

The next time I look, they’re both gone.

 

Panic laces my skin instantly in a cold sweat; _where the fuck did they go?_ The fight’s over for now, I can feel that much, and Sans’s typically-calming patience is losing its effect as a result. The bond begins to fade from sight, the necessity of circumstances falling away despite my heightened anxiety. Sans can clearly still feel it, or is experiencing the same, squirming uncomfortably in Papyrus’s hold just as I start to do so as well.

“Lady As—Toriel, we must leave.” Papyrus’s voice, for once, is low but ever-steady. The anchor now, he reaffirms his hold on us to reduce our struggling to a minimum while he corrals Toriel for the door.

 

I swear I hear them giggling. Snapping my head up again, I stare back into the flickering darkness as Papyrus carries us away from the room.

 

I swear I see him coming.

 

But he doesn’t.

 

not yet.

  
Just wait.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'M SO SORRY THIS TOOK ME SO FUCKING LONG. *screams into the void*   
> Basically, this week was my first week on-call. On top of that, I was the only investigator available to take cases, so I basically got slammed. Pulled 55 hours this week, had court, had all kinds of shit just smack right into the fan. It has been 100% awful. I actually broke down crying at work on Thursday under the amount of paperwork that flooded in with all the cases. The most upsetting thing to me was the fact that I was practically unable to write by the time I got home. All I wanted to do was write, but by the time I got settled and in bed all ready to go, I'd only get about a paragraph out before my head would start leaning on the keyboard.   
> HOWEVER, I cannot tell y'all how happy it made me to see that during my little absence, we broke 500 kudos and 75 bookmarks. Y'all are SO SWEET. I wish I could hug each and every one of you, but instead I'll just let you know that your support means so dang much to me. I don't know why this chapter was so dang hard to write, but I hope it turned out alright. As always, let me know your feels in the comment or on my tumblah. *virtual hugs you all*   
> I go off-call on Monday, and I'm hoping to have a looooot more time to write. The next time I go on-call will be the week of Labor Day.   
> The next chapter maaaay be the last one for this part. If it isn't, it'll be the one right after. I plan on writing a very short 7-8 chapter ReaderxSans story that has absolutely nothing to do with this "series", and I've gotten a pretty good start on it. I want to post that over the duration of one week, but this is always my priority. I'll have a little better idea of my exact plan after the next chapter. Anyway, as always, thank y'all so stinkin' much for reading!


	45. Wither

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING: suicidal ideations, vague description of medical procedure. 
> 
> LAST CHAPTER OF PART 1!

“Papyrus, do you have them?!” Undyne sounds more unhinged than I’ve ever heard her, and she nearly crashes straight into us as Papyrus rounds the next corner. Her armor hangs off of her, pieces completely missing, ponytail falling, eyes wide and wild in alarm until she registers we’re not the enemy. “O-oh, there you are.” In her arms, she clutches Alphys’s limp form close, her face tucked into the crook of Undyne’s neck. Alphys’s jaw remains stuck-open, pinkish saliva dripping onto Undyne’s breastplate. Toriel claps her hand over her mouth, half-turning away in an effort to hold onto the bile certainly scoring her throat.

 

“she hasn’t fallen down yet. there’s time.” Sans’s report only just calms Undyne, but she quickly realizes we’re missing someone.

 

“Where’s Frisk?” I get the sense she almost doesn’t want to know. There’s a brief moment of silence, in which all there is is the crushing weight of the Surface above. A world we will have to re-enter without them. The guilt smothers; I screw my palms into my eyes as Toriel quietly heaves a sob.

 

If only it were me.

 

“WE NEED TO EVACUATE BEFORE THE KING MANAGES TO GET THROUGH ALPHYS’S DEFENSES.” Papyrus tries for getting us moving so none of us have to address it, but Undyne is having none of it.

 

"If someone doesn’t tell me where they are _right now_ …” She snarls under her breath. Even the slight tensing of her muscles in that simple threat elicits a pitiful whimper from Alphys, bringing Undyne to a halt almost instantly.

 

“we can explain once we’re out…” Sans offers wearily to compromise. “alph can’t wait any longer though.” Perhaps gathering a reverberation of the self-loathing bouncing around in my skull, he reaches to place a hand on my back and it takes everything I have left not to jerk away. And I don’t have much.

 

Undyne visibly forces herself to accept the lack of an explanation, nodding to herself before turning on her heel.

 

She leaves bloody footprints in her wake.

 

 

 

We leave the Underground by way of the Ruins. The entire time Papyrus is getting us up the makeshift pulley system that was haphazardly installed, Sans murmurs under his breath, aqua blue emitting from his fingers and occasionally wreathing our SOULs.

 

I think I'm slowly losing my grip on reality.

 

A little eternity passes in the duration of the lift. Do we deserve to come back to the Surface with everything we’ve lost? I think about the bed of dead flowers below. Not much of a cushion if I just so happened to slip—as if he were reading my thoughts, Papyrus tightens his hold on me. Sans jerks his head up, trying to catch my eye, but I can’t bring myself to look at him.

 

I’m so disgusted with myself I think I’d actually try to vomit again if I had anything left in my stomach. But maybe that’s the pull of my rearranged guts.

 

The rainstorm that’d occupied the Surface during my descent with Frisk seems to have ended, at least from the top of Mt. Ebott, but the chill in the breeze doesn’t feel quite like coincidence.

 

“All three of them could certainly use medical attention.” Toriel’s voice seeps through the haze after a few moments, pasted together and gravely. She zips herself out of her now-unnecessary raincoat, stepping forward briefly to drape it over me without another word, wearing a grave expression. So it’s that bad, then.

 

“Is there anywhere we can go that’ll deal well with monsters?” The expert lies in Undyne’s arms as she speaks.

 

“THE UNIVERSITY HOSPITAL MAY BE THE BEST OPTION.” Papyrus suggests, to which Undyne and Toriel nod.

 

“It will have to do. I trust you two have them from here? I’ll see if I can turn up some monster food and other supplies.” Toriel begins to back away from the group of us, monotonous in her care to keep her voice level. Both Papyrus and Undyne pick up on it, watching her closely before giving their agreement.

 

“That’ll work. C’mon, Paps.” Undyne jerks her head off in one direction, easing into a pace after another short pause. Papyrus very clearly hesitates, his compassionate heart stretched thin. Toriel’s distress is practically palpable in the air; where the hell is she going off to?

 

“LADY TORIEL.” She half-turns toward us again, not quite making eye contact with Papyrus. Sans’s brows furrow; a flicker of concern passes through the bond, so much weaker than anything else I’ve felt up to this point. “WILL YOU BE ALRIGHT?”

 

“Of course, Papyrus. You don’t need to worry about me.” A wry smile tugs at the corners of her lips, so we all begin to do the opposite and fret quietly as she once more resumes her path away from us.

 

“She’ll be okay.” Undyne speaks up again after a moment, sounding more like she’s reassuring herself as well as all of us. Nodding in response, Papyrus falls into stride next to his captain.

 

 

 

I’m a catalogue of injuries.

 

The intake nurses have to settle for draping paper over the plastic chair in the room they provide for me, because I’m sure as hell not sitting on the examination table. I fidget, picking up the old gossip magazines on the counter and settling them back down. Observing the array of medical equipment within the room. No knives. I can’t make my leg stop bouncing.

 

In and out, the doctors and nurses go, poking and prodding, constantly picking at me. Asking me questions I don’t have answers for.

 

“How did this happen to you?”

 

Stupid comments. “You’re lucky to be alive after what it looks like you’ve been through.”

 

“It’s going to be alright.”

 

“I doubt you’ll even need surgery.”

 

“It’s been too long since the assault occurred to collect much evidence. We’ll do what we can.”

 

Toriel’s raincoat and the remains of Sans’s hoodie are the only things confiscated from me. There’s nothing else for me to lose. I feel guilty about it. My dignity’s long gone: the nurses taking photos to keep track of everything he did to me don’t even faze me. It’s all rough cotton swabs and tweezers from here.

 

I think I feel even more violated than I was when I came in.

 

When a detective comes to question me, I don’t say much. What’s the point? What is a mortal policeman going to do that’ll protect me from a transcendent, insane, nearly-omniscient entity? If the void couldn’t keep him prisoner, what will cement walls and bars do? I do have that answer, actually. Piss him off.

 

I constantly expect that the next person who comes in will be him. But it never is, and that’s almost worse. He’s going to make me wait, maybe even to the point where I get some inkling that I’m safe. And then, he’ll come.

 

Someone hands me a scratchy pair of grey sweatpants; I pull them on mechanically. Turn sideways in the chair when prompted so a doctor can stitch up the apparently-healing hole between my ribs. They marvel at the medical miracle my body has seemingly become, and all I can do is wish everything they mention would have killed.

 

After applying a surrounding layer of bandages, they provide me with a longsleeve too-big pink t-shirt, but withhold the promise of socks until they can get a better look at my foot. Might be broken, they say. More waiting for my turn.

 

Papyrus is allowed into the room after a little while, announcing his presence, “I LOOKED ALL OVER THIS PLACE FOR SOMETHING HEALTHY TO EAT. THERE ISN’T MUCH OF A SELECTION.” He settles into the other plastic chair next to the one I’ve planted myself in, showing me a slim selection of fruit he’s managed to scrounge up. My stomach clenches at just the idea of food, but it’s _Papyrus._ Or a residual Sans-thought. Either way, I convince myself to reach out and take the banana amongst the small variety, smiling slightly before peeling it and taking a bite. Carefully, I begin to chew and swallow, thinking about it, trying to remain mechanical. Shut the fuck up. My eyes start to water. Another bite, ignore the swelling ache in my chest. I brush my hand against my face, panicking quietly when I find tears. I inhale a particularly big bite, trying desperately not to look up at Papyrus. I know if I do, I won’t make it. I’m not strong enough.

 

“Is everyone else alright…?” I don’t even sound like myself.

 

“ALPHYS IS IN SURGERY, BUT I THINK SHE’LL BE OKAY. SANS SHOULD BE AS WELL. THE DOCTORS ARE TAKING X-RAYS OF HIM RIGHT NOW.” It becomes impossible to swallow the lump in my throat. “I DON’T UNDERSTAND THAT. HIS BONES ARE ALREADY VISIBLE, SO I DON’T KNOW WHY THEY WOULD NEED TO DO X-RAYS.”

 

I just fucking lose it.

 

Papyrus asks me not to cry, begs me not to, says he’s sorry for no reason. Shit timing, I always have it; the doctors return to collect me and Papyrus doesn’t know what his offer of his scarf _does_. I stutter out something like “I can’t,” leaving him horribly confused as they wheel me out. He doesn’t know.

 

Wheezing under the weight of my own distress, coupled with _his_ fragmented memories of timelines long past—my head feels like it’s about to pop; I bury it in my hands—.

 

 

“sweetheart…?”

 

The whole world may as well stop spinning.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WHO THE FUCK CRIES OVER A BANANA *shakes self for writing that* We do apparently.
> 
> SO I gotta go write something super cheesy and super positive to get all that out before I dig into the next part! I'm thinking it'll probably be about a two week break from this... but maybe less. It's hard to stay away from this fic. But I want to plan out the next part and where I intend to go with it. I have most of that, but I kind of want to give myself a little buffer, unlike what I had this time. And get in the right mood for it. Over part 1, y'all came with me through me changing jobs, which was a whirlwind in itself. I really really appreciate you guys sticking with me through it up to this point. No need to look for a sequel, I'll be updating right here again and I'll keep you guys posted about tentative return dates, etc. If you want, feel free to stop by tumblr as always. Love y'all bunches! X3 
> 
> Return date (may be updated): 9/5/16


	46. Piece

****The incessant ticking of the clock over her head flicks at my hypersensitive nerves with each second passing by. I already don’t want to be here. But when you say something about wanting to rip your brain out in the presence of hospital staff, well… Things like this become mandatory. The only difference this time is the presence of another female, a detective. She’s dressed down in a polo shirt, which still identifies her as an employee of the sheriff’s office, as opposed to the typical police garb. I expect that’s so I’m not intimidated. There’s a small, non-threatening monster in the room today as well, a Whimsun named Daffodil. I could barely hear her initially when she’d introduced herself. But I can hear her perfectly now.

“But… Dr. Gaster. That’s a figure of lore, if anything. There’s nothing to indicate he actually existed, and even if he did, that he exists now…” She shakes her head after saying the name, like it hurts her to think about. The other two humans dig at their ears with their pinkies.

I should have expected this.

I debate over whether or not I should continue pushing the issue. Whether or not it’s worth it to have them think I’m crazier than they’ve already assumed.

Just as I move to open my mouth again, Daffodil continues as she looks to the other two women, chirruping sweetly, “Sans did say something close. I don’t recall what exactly it was…”

My heart still promptly leaps into my throat, and I grit my teeth to swallow it down. Stupid.

"You've been very brave to go over all of this with me and our guests today.” My therapist’s saccharine voice tugs me back around, out of the looming dark. I sure as shit don’t feel brave.

But I cut them a smile as they rise to their feet and tell me it was “a pleasure”. They leave us be, and in the back of my head I wonder if he’s going to come pouring out of her mouth onto the coffee table.

“____, tell me how you’re feeling today.” She prompts tenderly.

"I'm okay. Hanging in there."

“Now be honest with me… Have you had any thoughts of suicide since we last spoke?”

Every day. I finger at the button nearest the invisible hole in my chest, the chasm perpetually growing wider, inch by inch rending me apart, the unbearable _alone_ —“No. I’m doing well managing that.”

She smiles rather proudly at that, and I’m sure she feels like she’s accomplished something here today. “That’s wonderful news. What would you say if I reduced our visits to a bi-weekly basis?”

I pretend to deliberate over this for a moment. “Sure… I think I will be fine with that.”

“Excellent.” She stands, straightening her pencil skirt before extending her hand to me. I take it and shake, attempting not to be mechanical. “Want to stick with Monday nights?”

Nothing would irritate me more. “Whatever works best for you.” I try my best not to grind my teeth.

“We’ll stay status quo then. I’ll see you in two weeks.” I nod to supplement a slow response.

“Okay.” Keep the grin smeared across my cheeks until she leaves, the door latching shut behind her with a soft click.

I don’t have the energy to move from this spot. So I sit. And wait for the inevitable as the dull roar of blood in my ears softly calls _death, death,_

_death,_

_**death…** _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *crawls out of my grave* I'M ALIIIIIIVE!!!!  
> I missed you all so much! *smothers in hugs and kisses*   
> So allow me to explain my extended absence...
> 
> August into September was insanely busy at work. I essentially got crushed with cases and since we have 30 days to close them, well... The work bled into this month as well. I've only just gotten my workload to a reasonable number and it's bound to go right back up... It's been a drain on any writing outside of work, because all I want to do when I get home is lay down and be mindless. There have been nights I've gotten home and whipped out my computer and could not string a coherent sentence together, much to my extreme dismay.   
> On the flip side of this situation, I've met someone. And he's... Life-changing, that's for sure. 
> 
> Staying away has allowed ideas to begin popping back into my head naturally though... But I think until work totally calms down again I'll probably be stuck at one update a week. This one was horrifically short, but I wanted to let y'all know I'm alive! Thank you as always for reading! We'll be back to the nitty gritty next chapter! For now though, welcome to part 2!


	47. Not Easy

_Sans (9:14AM)_

_sweetheart, you up?_

  
He knows the answer to that question, good and well. Frustrated, I toss my phone at the discarded pile of blankets at the end of my bed. A muffled rumble sounds from within the mound seconds later, and I resolutely ignore it, fisting my hands in my hair and doubling over. Wishing he’d just leave me alone. Knowing I really don’t want that.

I’ve never felt such raw agony in a distance. I’ve never been stretched so thin.

It’s been about one month since our return to the Surface.

  
_Sans (9:17AM)_

_please don’t shut me out._

  
And about one month since I’ve seen anyone.

Out of the frying pan and into the fire, I’ve been back in my dorm room for nearly a week. I know I’ll have to leave eventually; I’ll run out of ramen noodles and EasyMac before long. But for now, my anxiety continues to outweigh the need for worth-a-damn food. Considering even the shadows in my own room scare me, I don’t see a point in risking a panic attack in public.

  
_Sans (9:25AM)_

_alph is awake. she asked to see us._

  
Fuck’s sake.

I lean over and snatch my phone out of the blankets, opening the messages and reading them over again. Weighing my options with the not-so-subtle flutter of my SOUL pressing into my ribs. He deserves an answer.

He just doesn’t deserve garbage like me.

  
_xxx-xxx-xxxx (9:27AM)_

_Do you know why…?_

  
_Sans (9:28AM)_

_no. undyne just told me it’s urgent._

  
Oh, how my heavy-laden heart _soars_ unnecessarily at the almost-instantaneous reply. Sighing softly, I glance over at the mirror, carding my hand through the mess of hair on my head. Whatever Alphys needs us for, a sharp twinge of guilt throttles me at the idea of not coming to her aid.

“Fuck…” I breathe into the stale air, rubbing at one eye before replying begrudgingly.

_  
xxx-xxx-xxxx (9:30AM)_

_Alright. I guess I’ll see you here?_

_  
Sans (9:31AM)_

_be there in a bit._

  
It takes a little self-motivating to get out of bed and look relatively presentable. I should probably shower, but I don’t trust myself to get back out if I venture that way. Maybe I’ll bathe in Febreeze. Mechanically, I exchange pajama pants for baggy sweatpants, damp t-shirt for one that at least smells okay, and tug a fleece jacket over my shoulders. Ball my hair up on top of my head. Purposely fail to glance at the mirror.

As my fingertips graze the metal doorknob, electric dread zings through my spine. This is a bad idea. Fixing my fingers firmly around the knob, I brace for the mental barrage and squeeze my eyes shut against it. He’s out there, split-faced and smiling and waiting in the dark. And I’m sinking into it, the viscid blackness, the thunderous cacophony of crunching bone and ripping skin; it’s in my eyes and ears and pulling at my heart—.

Hot, humid breath washes over the back of my neck.

But when I glance back, it’s just me.

My phone surges to life in my hand, jarring me back to reality and nearly causing me to drop the fucking thing.

_  
Sans (9:59AM)_

_i’m outside._

  
Of course he is. Grinding my teeth, I press my bodyweight into the door and force it open, blinking into the hallway light. A group of students loiter near the elevators towards the end of the hall, making that route unappealing; but then there’s the creepy-ass stairwell.

Not any better.

Standing stock-still too long will certainly draw attention, so I keep my head low and walk, measuring my steps to the elevators. The brief wait for one of the two silos to respond seems to stretch on significantly longer than it should, the grinding gears strident and grating to me alone. Automatic, I move inside, shuffled to the back as the boisterous college kids fall in after me. This is okay. Not too bad, if a little cramped. They’re all just talking, blissfully unaware of the massive shitstorm that could be unleashed literally at any second.

And then, a soft _bing_ sounds, the elevator doors sliding wide open.

The world goes on.

I hang back slightly, moving for the exit at a measured pace, and attempting to mirror the cool and collected vibes the students exude. They split off once they reach the building’s main exit, parting almost too-evenly, eyes drawn to the divide. Where his gaze meets mine.

I told myself I’d restrain the desire, desperation, need when I saw him again. Let him come to me. Choke back the so-called love I seem to have for him. Do less harm.

Shit’s completely out the window, my hands clenching hard onto his hoodie just as his lace into my hair. Our mouths collide with magnetic force, quick and unintentional, the both of us bouncing back as if electrified. And the color seems to wash back into my world in his grasp. Serpentine thoughts wither quietly against the lightness of my heart, black smoke-like wisps lingering still— _wrong_ _wrong_ _wrong_. But my SOUL swells against my ribs, warmth easing into my very fingertips and toes…

Sans chuckles softly, sounding so relieved—so happy to see me, and my SOUL nearly leaps out of my throat. “heya, sunshine. been awful grey without you around.”

It takes me a minute to respond, like I’ve forgotten how to speak. Silently begging the powers that be for help before I manage to crack a smile, murmuring back, “I missed you too.” Good enough, his sunspot smile bright enough to prove that much. My own falters, doubt snaking its way into my brain through my ears—I’m not ready and I never was. The resulting pang of painful guilt is enough, and I drop my hold on his jacket, stuttering out, “Sorry.”

“no. no, don’t be.” Sans’s expression shifts as well, regret starkly smeared across his features. Surely for even coming. Should have left me in my little room. Bad idea. “we can, uh… talk later. alph’s probably newt taking us making her wait so well.” He looks so hopeful for a laugh just after that reptile pun, and all I can do is pull on a halfway sort of grin. It’s not real, and he knows it. “ready?”

“Sure.” I’m disappointed in me too, no worries. Plenty of that to go around. I stare stupidly for an instant when he offers his hand to me, numbly convincing myself this can’t hurt too bad. Just a little jaunt through space-time, I tell myself as I grasp onto that hand probably a little more tightly than necessary, squeezing my eyes shut to indicate I don’t want to speak any more of it.

“i’ve got you.” Steadying, his voice and hand guide me to take a step forward, into the weightless nothing.

And then once more, before the sheer lack of surroundings becomes too much, out to a little interior hallway of a hospital. It’s perfectly simultaneous, how our spines straighten rigidly at the sharp familiarity of the setting and how our heads turn to face each other’s, sheepish expressions matching.

“heh. guess i’m still kinda on edge.” Sans excuses himself, keeping my hand and leading me gently down the hallway.

“Have a little nerve, bone-boy.” The instant it’s out, I’m a bit shocked at myself, and I bite my lip in self-criticism. But Sans looks to me with the biggest grin—my chest numbs at the fierce lurch my SOUL gives.

“sweetheart, you know that’s difficult for someone with my condition.” It’s like Sans-overdose, my cheeks flushing and pulse pounding in his presence, at his words. It’d be nice to die like this.

Somehow through the blur of our banter, we arrive at a closed door, and Sans knocks twice before pushing it open. It immediately becomes apparent who received the worst of it all, aside from our still-missing Frisk. Alphys struggles to sit up in on her bed, clearly attempting to smile though certainly pained by doing so. She doesn't bother speaking through her wired-shut teeth and still-swollen cheeks, already frantically scribbling so hard on her little notepad that she nearly loses her balance. Sans allows the door to swing shut behind us, and Alphys motions us to come closer, have a seat.

“heya, alph. what’s kickin’?” Sans teases, patting the cast over her left leg with extreme care. She shoots him a glare, relief flooding my system; at least her spirits are up. Her gaze shifts to me, her eyes widening and tearing up, a lump catching in my own throat.

“Long time no see…” I smile for her, though a little wryly, coming to her bedside. Alphys snags my hand, squeezing it tight and pulling me in close. We embrace, and when her body shudders out a sob, I can’t quite bring myself to swallow anymore.

When we separate, she shows me what she’d written, _“I_ _almost_ _didn’t believe you were alive until_ _now._ ”

The laugh I manage to produce is rather wry, “Yeah, me either.”

Sans’s brow-bones furrow at my statement, but Alphys is already writing once again, _“Sans told me about what happened.”_

“That’s nice.” My reply comes short, and I fire off an icy glare in his direction. Rehashing the horror we experienced wasn’t what I had in mind when I accepted this invitation, and I certainly don’t intend to go down that road.

_“No—“_

“i know what you’re thinking, and it’s not that.” Sans stands up straighter, shoving his hands in his pockets. “it’s just that: i know what you’re thinking.”

_"Sans, don't interrupt. This is hard enough.”_ Alphys taps the paper repeatedly with her pencil with some level of irritation; this isn’t the first time she’s had to remind him. Raising his hands, he takes a step away and shifts his gaze to the window. _“We mean the bond. That you two bonded. He’s only told me because of how serious this is.”_

“Well, it didn’t kill us. I guess we’re fine.” In spite of myself, I can’t keep the visceral bitterness off my tongue. I can’t salve the unease wrought across her features; I can’t give him any further false hope.

Pathetic, I’m wavering almost instantly on that stance.

_“No, but you both are the first successful human-monster bond since...”_ She pauses briefly, then adds, _“you know who I mean.”_ Asriel and Chara. This means plenty more than I’m willing to acknowledge right now; my response to her statement is a blank stare.

“don't play stupid. you know better.” Sans snaps suddenly, low irritation grinding his voice into a growl.

This is all it takes. "Believe me, I wish I could!” I want to scream, and I come close. And the room draws in a collective _breath_ , lightning-tension raking across my skin, and theirs as well from Sans's and Alphys's shocked expressions. I open my mouth to speak in spite of the abrupt heaviness in the room, but Sans raises a phalange first, holding the three of us in silence until the oppressive feeling passes.

“…this is what we need to discuss.” His gaze rests just over my left shoulder, and I turn my head out of compulsion.

“Nobody's here.” With some distress, I look back to Sans, finding him shaking his head.

“not somebody, no. but some _thing_.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh. My. God.   
> I want to apologize again for taking so long putting up another chapter. It should not have taken me this long. Ugh... I've been dealing with a lot of personal issues that have put a real wrench in my ability to keep writing. Another issue I'm having is that my computer's refusing to load any Word documents I have saved, making working on anything extremely difficult. I have so much planned for these guys though, and I intend to finish this no matter how long it takes me.   
> Thank you guys for your patience as always!


	48. Mercury

  1. Thing. Noun. An object one need not, cannot, or does not wish to give a specific name to.



Tears fill my eyes as laughter bubbles unbidden from my belly. I can't help it. All the secrecy and bullshittery, I truly don't give a fuck anymore. It's fine. Alphys gives me this _look_ , shock melded all together with endless concern. And I can't do anything more than give her a certainly crazed smile in return.

"what's so funny?" Sans's voice bottoms out into a low monotone, and I glance in his direction just in time to see his pinprick pupils disappear.

"This. This whole fucking thing." I sneer venomously in response, tasting rage on my tongue. "I don't want any part of whatever the fuck the two of you have planned. I've been fucked over enough for a lifetime." My voice slushes icily out of my throat, calm and cool in the eye of this storm. For a minute, I can almost believe myself as I spin on my heel and shove out of the room.

The hospital hallways dissolve into a blur of sterile white, and I manage to find the parking lot before Sans appears out of thin air before me.

"you can't just run from this." He sputters out as I brush past him, dead-set on doing just that. But with each step I take beyond that point of closeness with Sans, my SOUL burrows harder against my spine, drawn back to him. I register a harrowing thought as my head starts to spin: I don't have a choice in the matter, not anymore.

"please don't." His pain, no, _agony_ echoes through that fucking bond like a gunshot to the heart with each step, bang. Bang. Bang.

I will tear us both apart. It's the only thing I've been any good at lately, I muse; and to my horror, Sans still reacts to _my_ vitriolic ideations. He reaches over the bond to soothe me, sending nothing but good vibrations, _love_ , even though he's so upset.

Infuriated, I'm teetering on my breaking point as I wheel on him, because I have nothing else to go after. No one else to scream at. No one left to hurt.

My heartbeat unhinges, finally; darkness plunges over my field of vision. It's **_him_**. The heat lancing my back couldn't be anything but-- _ **don't turn around**_. My eyelids flutter shut. No point in looking now--mind racing a thousand miles an hour, galloping toward that edge; I can see it I'm almost there run run kiss the end goodbye as I send myself from it--

stop.

breathe.

The sense of sanctuary permeating my very being only _feels_ unfamiliar; it's not. All is quiet for an instant, and then Sans speaks, though I can hear him within and without, " _not here. it's not him_." When I open my mouth to begin to protest, he seems to see my thought before I can articulate it. _"have i ever lied to you before, sweetheart?_ " Of course, the answer is still a resounding no. In spite of it all. My head swells at the giddy wholeness, the bond stabilizing my wreck of a mind. _"i know. they do feel close, but not quite."_

be brave, Sans's gentle urging inclines me to face my fear, and I turn my head. A rush of anxiety floods my veins as I find myself directly in the sights of the _thing_ \--Gaster Blaster, lightbulb-like recall. I instinctively take a step sideways, and am immensely relieved when it doesn't retrain on me.

"even i'll admit, they're pretty impressive." Sans sounds slightly begrudging as he walks around the unmoving entity, voice still resonating the tiniest bit.

"...they?" I finally manage a word, holding steady but still struggling to catch up with my freight-train of thought. Sans nods, though he doesn't appear to be too uneasy.

"there are seven, at least that I have seen." The idea leaves me feeling just a bit faint-- _seven_? Sans's hand finds my shoulder as he comes to my side. Within a blink of an eye as my nerves simmers down, the monstrosity disappears, and I'm nearly sucked down to my knees in the energy gap it leaves behind. Even with Sans keeping me upright.

"What... the hell...?" About all I can come up with at the moment.

"magic, sweetheart. and not sleight of hand, or of heart..." His words wander away as he gazes at our surroundings, and I recall we're in public.

"What're you saying...?" I reply breathily, blearily glancing up at him.

"i'm saying we need to talk. and i thought you'd listen to alph more than me, which is why i brought you here first." There's a tiny sting I'm unsure of if Sans intended to leak into the statement. But it makes sense; Alphys is always logical, always reasonable. Before all of this, I usually followed my head.

"...No, I'll listen." I answer him after a moment, and he almost seems surprised.

"just not here." Sans appears to ruminate over a proper location, and I'm not about to suggest my dorm room in its disgusting state. I can nearly feel the disappointment he'd have in me now. "my place?"

"Paps isn't there, is he...?" And then, I realize how that sounds, "not that I don't want to see him, but I'm not sure I can handle it..."

"no, he's been out training most of the day lately." But Sans doesn't look the slightest bit perturbed by my question, like he gets it. I can feel my shoulders start to sag slightly as I relax, and then his phone buzzes. He doesn't take care to keep the screen from me when he snatches it out of his hoodie pocket--it's Alphys. And so, I do allow myself to calm down. Sans texts her back quickly before looking back up at me, "you ready?"

"May as well be." He nods and turns me by the shoulder into the void.

Less than a minute later, we stagger out of the abysmal blackness and into the bone brothers' home. Some small twinge of nostalgia nestles inside my chest at the sight of the misaligned colors on the floor and walls--not my emotion, but not intrusive enough to bother me.

Sans leads me to the couch, and I sink willingly into the cushions. Exhausted already, my eyelids begin to droop, though I shake myself to stay alert and refuse his offer of a blanket when he sits down himself. 

"look... a lot of this is theory, and you probably already know that. but it's all i got right now to explain this. okay?" 

"Okay." I nod, forcing myself to sit straight. 

"obviously... i think you know we bonded down there." Sans begins, hesitation hinted across his features. "the first human-monster bond since the royal kids, so i really... i don't know what it did to us. you've noticed us sharing thoughts and even some feelings." 

Understatement, I want to tell him. “Clearly, that’s not… all we’re sharing.” Sans doesn’t immediately answer, his pupils shrinking down to almost nothing in his sockets. “Right?”  
  
“well, you’re not exactly wrong.” Gritting his teeth, he grimaces back up at me. “we’re not splitting the massive death-weapons though. those are apparently all yours now.” His voice remains nonchalant as almost-always, even as his eyes spark back to the undercurrent of near panic shaking his SOUL, and in turn my own. Ever-infectious silence permeates the room, stinking up the air between us for a good moment.  
  
"...Do I even want to know how that's possible?" When I finally manage to force the words out of my throat, they sound strangely distant, detached. Still, Sans's eyes give off that little glimmer they get when he knows he can make light of something. did I just pun in my own head?  
  
"you do. i would know because, ya know... the bond." He taps the side of his skull with the tip of his finger.  
  
"Well, I guess I'm glad you can help me figure that out." Sighing, a small half-grin still manages to form on my face. "I-is there any way we can try to control this emotional back-and-forth, though? Mood swings are apparently a thing for me now anyway..." He nods, taking a stabilizing breath and smiling slightly back at me.

"got a lot going on between the two of our heads..." Sans clears his throat, rubbing his palms together. "speaking of feeling dogged, about your hounds. you saw when--." A little cough interrupts him, and I know what name he's trying to say, but I sense his aversion is almost as palpable as mine, likely under my influence. Spitting the word anyway, he continues, "gaster. when he took the perseverance from me and injected it into himself." As he speaks, my mind ever-so-helpfully recalls the trauma. I watched him tear Sans apart-- "they listened to me long enough to hear my call, i guess, but obviously it was clear who owned them at that point. he confirmed my theory about them though: they follow whoever has the highest amount of perseverance."

"Sort of like RESETs, SAVE-ing, and LOADing belong to the SOUL with the highest amount of determination." I supplement to show I'm listening, and he nods.

"essentially the same. so i'm not sure he meant to relinquish that to you, but he did anyway when he tried to adjust your SOUL." His voice fades softly. That's an interesting way to put it. "you called them when we escaped, just like you did outside of the hospital."

"I didn't call anything, Sans. How would I even know how to do that?" Although I ask the question, surely I could rifle through my memory to the moment I called the beast forth the first time. I could, but I won't. danger, will robinson. Shaking off the mind-muddle, I look back up at Sans.

"i don't know off the top of my head. but maybe we can dial that up." He smiles wide, and I can see--feel the cogs turning in his mind.

so, i'm telling us there's a chance.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So hi! Long time no see... (understatement of the year).  
> First of all, I apologize again for taking even more time than the lAST TIME I APOLOGIZED ugh. I do want a chance to explain myself though, because this story and you all do mean so much to me.  
> My life has changed so much since the last chapter was posted, and this chapter has been in progress for nearly a year as of publishing today. I quit my old job and started a new one in June 2017. My old job, if I haven't mentioned before, dealt heavily in child welfare and during the month of April 2017, I ran into several very intense cases seemingly back to back to back. I ended up developing secondary traumatic stress (aka compassion fatigue), which when laid on top of my own experiences, created a big ol' whirlpool and I basically couldn't get my head above water. My supervisor would hold all these meetings about taking care of yourself and then wouldn't follow through at all with that. She encouraged me to take a short vacation (lol I took a Friday off), and by the time I came back from the trip on Monday, I was written up for not having documentation entered in a timely manner, even though I was within policy standards. SOOOOO with that knowledge, writing unfortunately fell by the wayside as I used my spare time to job hunt. I had my letter of resignation submitted within two months of the event and took off on this new journey.  
> I love my new job very much so far. And the writing's come back slowly as I've come back around from burnout. I would revisit the chapter and find myself not quite ready to continue on it... I'm sure it's disjointed as hell, but my goal is to prevent that from now on.  
> On top of the job change, I moved out and got my own apartment in September! It's like I'm a real adult, whooaaaaa!  
> Lastly, thank you all so much for your very kind words. Those comments of y'all's got me through some dark days. I'm going to respond to them individually. And thank you to everyone who commented at the beginning of the story for sure! But specifically, thank you to uwa-so-frisk, RockyRose (!!!Missed you!!! NEED TO CATCH UP ON ALL YOUR WORK), and Pinkflames4 for the very kind comments when I disappeared from the realm of the living for a while. 
> 
> Let's see where this story takes us, shall we? =)


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